I dumped my laundry bag on the floor next to a machine, and Jordan and Skylar did the same with theirs. This had been our weekly ritual for months, and as silly and as mundane as it was, I enjoyed this time. It used to be just Jordan and me, but Skylar had started to join us, and I was more than fine with that. There was clearly something budding between them. Their friendship had cemented a long time ago, but now the glances and giggles from private conversations were more and more frequent.

We each threw our first loads into our machines and set them going, and this was when our conversations started. We usually talked about school or work or Peter, and after last night, I was still buzzing.

“Okay, Yanni,” Skylar said, crossing her arms and smirking. “Give us the details. You haven’t stopped smiling yet.”

I felt blush burn from my forehead to my toes. But I couldn’t deny it. I was sure my smile bordered on ridiculous. “Peter and I had sex last night.” They both stopped and stared. “I mean, we’ve done a lot of sexual things,” I whispered, looking around at the other people doing laundry. No one even looked in our direction. “But last night was… the night.”

Then, surprising even myself, I started to cry. My eyes welled with tears, and I laughed at how stupid it was. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

“Aww,” Skylar said, coming in for a hug. “It’s okay.”

Then Jordan was there, sneaking into the embrace as well. The three of us hugged until I pulled back to wipe my eyes. “I’ve never been this happy. These tears are stupid!”

“It’s a huge deal,” Skylar said. She put her hand on my arm and whispered, “Overcoming sexual assault is a huge fucking deal, Yanni. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am.” I sniffled, swallowing my tears. “I don’t know if I’ve overcome it. I think it will always be a part of me. My life is forever changed, ya know?” They both nodded sadly. “But I took back control. Lance took it from me, and I took it back! So maybe that is conquering it, I don’t know.” I shook my head with a teary laugh. “I’m a freaking mess today.”

Jordan, holding the cuffs of her long sleeves in her fists, gave me another silent hug, which, for her, was a big deal. I guessed she trusted me, and that realization moved me back to tears. I returned her hug gently, and Skylar looked on with tears in her eyes. “I’m proud of you,” Jordan whispered, and when she pulled back, I saw that she was teary too.

“God, I’m making us all cry,” I said, trying to laugh off this emotion that came from nowhere. I waved my hands in front of my eyes, fanning them, trying to stem the burn of tears. “And he was so wonderful. I mean, we’ve been working up to it. It’s taken months of tiny steps—you know, two steps forward, one step back—but the timing was right, or the planets aligned, or something cosmic happened anyway. It was perfect.”

Skylar giggled. “I’m sure it was cosmic.”

“I’m meeting his mom this afternoon.”

They both stared again, eyes wide. “His mom?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah. He normally goes to see her when I’m here with you guys, but today we’re going after. He wants me to meet her. And his friends, but we’re starting with his mom.”

“Holy shit,” Skylar whispered. “Now that’s a big deal.”

“I know. It’s all a big deal. Last night, now meeting his mom, then his friends next week or next month or sometime.”

“He’s really serious about you,” Jordan said quietly.

I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, yeah. He tells me he loves me all the time.”

Jordan nodded. “Yeah, but still. Saying that is one thing. And it’s a very big thing, don’t get me wrong. But wanting you to meet everyone is a whole other level.”

“It’s a whole permanent level,” Skylar added. “Like he’s thinking permanent. Forever. May as well get married, take his name, have his babies kind of level.”

My heart tripped over in my chest. “You think?”

Jordan’s smile was slow and knowing. “Look at you. You’re not even the slightest bit freaked out.”

Skylar snorted. “He’s glowing.”

I buried my face in my hands to hide my embarrassment, but then I laughed right out loud and did some crazy happy wiggle. “Give me another hug,” I said, and they both did.

Only this time, I pulled away and maneuvered their arms so they were hugging each other. “Well, would you look at that,” I said. “Happiness is contagious.”

Both girls blushed but there was a look shared between them, and for a moment I thought they might kiss. I was disappointed they didn’t but happy neither of them pulled apart too soon. I hummed excitedly, back to buzzing and nonstop smiling, just as our washing machines beeped to signal they were done.

We went back to our laundry, the three of us smiling away to ourselves.

* * *

I climbed into Peter’s car knowing we were heading to his mother’s house, and I was nervous. He kissed me over the console, slow and sweet. “I missed you,” he whispered. He’d only dropped me off a few hours before, but I understood because I missed him too. “How were Jordan and Skylar? Get all your washing done?”

“Yep, all done. And they’re good. I told them we had sex last night.”

Peter’s eyes went wide with surprise. “You did?”

I nodded. “I had to tell someone. They knew something had happened because I was buzzing, apparently.”

“And what did they do?”

“They hugged me.” I laughed and shook my head. “In the middle of the laundromat. I might have cried. Just a little.”

He was immediately concerned. “You cried?”

“It was so weird. I think I was too happy.” I didn’t want to explain the whole emotion-dump of overcoming my past. But this was Peter, and he understood me. “And Skylar said something that rang true with me. I conquered a demon last night. With your help, of course. I took back the only remaining thing that Lance stole from me.”

He took my hand and put it to his face. His eyes shone fiercely. “I love you.”

I leaned my head on the headrest and just stared at him. This wonderful man did love me. I could see it in everything he did. “I love you too.”

He leaned over and kissed me. “Ready to meet my mom? She’s very excited to meet you.”

Nerves stomped all over my good mood. “What if I say something stupid?”

“You do the fox and rabbit thing so well. Slaying demons one minute, timid as a rabbit the next.”

“That’s me,” I said. “A demon-slaying rabbit.”

Peter laughed and started the car. “Perfect in every way.”

* * *

Peter’s mother’s house was an older-style bungalow that had at some point been converted into two smaller houses. They shared the wide front steps and a roof, but there were two front doors and a brick wall that separated each home.

Peter gave me an encouraging smile and opened the driver door. He collected a canvas grocery bag from the backseat and waited for me to join him. Swallowing down my nerves and trying to put on a brave face, I walked up the steps and stood back while Peter rang the doorbell.

The woman who answered was an older, female version of Peter, elegantly dressed in a black tailored pantsuit with a fitted jacket. I suddenly felt underdressed in tan pants and a button-down shirt. She was tall, had short, gray hair, styled nicely, and from her shoulders and arms, she looked very strong and fit. She threw open the door, pulled Peter in for a kiss on the cheek, then putting her hands on my shoulders, she let out a sigh and hugged me.

Yep. She was as strong as she looked.

“Oh, you’re a doll,” she said. Peter looked on with a grin while holding the door back, and his mother went inside. “Come in, come in.”

Peter held the door for me. I stepped inside but waited so I could follow him. There was a short hall that led to an old-fashioned white and yellow kitchen. Peter put the bag on the table that sat in the middle of the room. “How was church?” he asked, pulling out the goods we’d bought yesterday.

She waved her hand dramatically. “Always the same. I just got in, actually. Can you give me a moment to get changed? Peter, be a dear and get that coffee machine going, and when I come back, you can introduce me properly to this gorgeous man of yours.”

She disappeared with a smile, and Peter was quick to wrap his arms around me, kissing the side of my head. “She loves you already.”

I was more nervous now than before I got here. I noticed a gold-framed picture of Jesus on the wall just off the kitchen… and she just got back from church. I suddenly felt a little lightheaded. “She’s religious?”

Peter froze, then pulled back with his hands on my arms. “She is. Russian Orthodox, to be exact. She always has been, but when things with my father got particularly bad, her faith helped her through that.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. “Oh.”

“Yanni,” he said gently, lifting my face. “She accepts me, just as I am. She’s not going to shun you because you’re gay.”

I closed my eyes. “My parents did.”

He kissed my eyelids. “I know. But please don’t worry. I would never bring you into a situation like that.”

I took a deep breath and found comfort from his words. I even managed half a smile. “Thank you.”

“I better get this coffee started,” he said, walking to the coffee machine.

I finished unpacking the items from the grocery bag on the table as his mom came back out, now wearing a long, flowy navy skirt and a knitted blouse, and she even wore glasses with purple frames. She looked much more comfortable and a little less daunting.

“Now, Peter,” she said smiling at me.

“Ah.” He shut the lid on the coffee machine and darted over to me. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Yanni Tomaras. Yanni, my mom, Katia Hannikova.”

“Mrs Hannikova,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I love your manners, darling,” she said with a smile that reminded me of Peter’s. “But please, call me Katia.” She pulled out a seat at the table, then one for me. “Come, sit with me. Tell me about you.”

“Oh, uh,” I stammered, sitting nervously beside her. I had no idea what Peter had told her about me, if anything.

She seemed to pick up on my unease. “Peter tells me you’re studying to be an actor.”

“Yes, at LASPA.”

Peter put coffees in front of us, then bringing his own to the table, he sat down next to me and took my hand. In front of his mother. “And he’s brilliant,” Peter said. “I watched his Midsummer Night’s Dream portrayal, where he was the most brilliant Puck.”

“It was just a class production,” I added, downplaying his compliment.

“It was a packed audience,” Peter told her. “With a standing ovation.”

Katia laughed. “I’m sorry, Yanni. But if Peter says you’re brilliant, then I’m inclined to believe him.”

I was sure my blush could have been seen from space. Peter laughed, and standing, he kissed my temple, then opened the container of sweets. “Yanni wanted to bring something, so we called into the Russian rynok. We got these Alenka chocolates for you.”

“You thought of these?” Katia asked me.

“Well, Peter suggested them. If I’d been left unsupervised, I’d have probably made koulourakia. They’re a Greek cookie.”

Katia beamed at me. “And I would have loved them!”

Peter went to a cupboard and took out three small plates, then some spoons from a drawer. We ate and talked, and it was clear to me that Peter and Katia were very close. We soon moved to the sitting room, Peter and me on the loveseat and his mom next to me on the single recliner. But when Peter excused himself to go to the bathroom, Katia zeroed in on me.

I was suddenly and apparently very obviously petrified.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “Let me tell you something about my boy…”

I stopped breathing.

“I have never, ever seen him this happy.”

Oh. “Oh.” I could literally feel the color return to my face.

She laughed quietly, and reaching over, she put her hand on my arm. “I always wondered if he’d find someone who he’d give his heart to, and now I know he has.”

I put my free hand to my heart. “Oh wow, I thought you were going to tell me I wasn’t good enough.”

She looked horrified. “Oh, my good Lord, no. I would never!”

I felt instant relief. “Good, because I’m kind of in love with him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just kind of?”

“Okay, so completely head over heels.” I put my hand over my eyes, mortified that I just admitted that to Peter’s mother.

She laughed just as Peter came back in, carrying a tray with the cheese, crackers, fig paste, and sliced pears. “Okay, what did I miss?”

He put the tray on the coffee table and sat next to me. “I’m just embarrassing myself,” I said, putting my face against his shoulder.

“No, he’s not. He’s charming me,” Katia said. Then she noticed the cheese. “Oh, Peter, is that Omichka?”

“Sure is.”

“My mother would be proud,” she said wistfully. “You spoil me.”

“Well, today was a special occasion,” he said, taking my hand. So we ate the cheese and crackers, the fig paste was incredible, the pears were too. We drank sparkling mineral water, and Katia told me stories of Peter’s high school days, trying to embarrass him. “His school photos are on the mantel.”

Smiling, I walked over to the silver frames of a young, blond boy, the younger ones with gappy teeth and spiky hair, an older one with braces, then his college graduation photo where he stood proudly with his mother, certificate in hand. There was no photo of his father, and I was kind of glad.

There was a photo that didn’t match the others, though. It was a group of college kids at some outdoor gathering, and there, at the bottom left of the picture, was Peter. He had his arm around some guy and he looked happy. “Is that an ex-boyfriend?”

Peter, now standing next to me, simply shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah. We dated for a while in our first year of college. His name was Jimmy Cortez. I have no idea whatever happened to him. We lost touch.”

Oh. It struck me as an odd choice of photo to display in his mom’s house.

Katia now stood on the other side of me. “Yanni, did Peter ever tell you how he came out to me?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Peter leaned into me a little and gave me a smile, but it was Katia who spoke. “He didn’t have the best childhood,” she said sadly, staring at the photograph. “But he was good at school, happy, at least, and always got good grades. He had lots of friends, and by the time he was in high school… well, suffice it to say, I was so busy with my own problems that I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

“You did just fine, Mom,” Peter said like they’d had this conversation a hundred times.

“He was an A-student, played football, even worked after school to help me pay the bills. Him having or not having a girlfriend was the least of my worries…” Katia frowned. “Then he started college. He lived in the dorm, but he’d helped set me up in my own place by then, so I wanted him to go out and experience life. He’d always been so serious. I wanted him to have some fun, ya know?”

I swallowed, unsure of where this was going. “Yeah. I know.”

Katia was still staring at the photo, and she smiled. “Then before the end of his first year, I was reading the college newspaper, and this photo was in it.” She sighed heavily. “So, it wasn’t really that he told me he liked boys. It was more that he was outed. It was an article about youth diversity or something like that. I can’t even really remember what the article said exactly. But this photo…”

Peter put his arm around me and smiled fondly. “She called me, very upset. And when I came home, I found her sitting at the kitchen table staring at the photo and crying her eyes out.”

I couldn’t help the sharp breath, but I was quick to put my hand on his back. How awful. “Oh.”

Katia laughed. “Oh no, it wasn’t like that. I cried and cried because I’d never seen my own son as happy as he was in that photo. And after everything we’d been through, it killed me inside that he thought he had to hide that part of himself from me.”

Peter leaned into me some more. “It’s true. She hugged me and told me she only wanted me to be happy and to be myself.”

Katia took the photo frame from the mantel and stared at where Peter was frozen in time, some twenty years ago, laughing in the sun. “Well,” she said. “I’d never seen him that happy.” She put the frame back in its place and gave us a warm smile. “Until now.”

I shrank into Peter, and he laughed, putting his arm around me protectively. “I can’t argue with that,” he murmured.

“Not even with whatshisname?” Katia said, going back to her seat. “Demetri? Dennis?”

“Duncan,” Peter corrected her. Duncan was the guy Peter had hired Spencer to help get back.

Katia all but rolled her eyes. “I never did care much for that boy. And you didn’t either, did you Peter?”

“I thought I did,” he answered. I looked up at him and he smiled at me. “But I can see now he wasn’t the one for me.”

The one for him? As in the one? Oh my God. I tried to speak, but my heart was doing crazy things in my chest.

“Oh yes,” Katia said, collecting the tray and taking it into the kitchen. “We can all see that.”

When his mother had left the room, Peter cupped my face and kissed me softly. “Ready to go home now?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

We said our goodbyes, and Katia made Peter promise he’d bring me back or even invite her for dinner—she hinted with a wink. She hugged me again. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Yanni. He’s done nothing but talk about you for months, and now I can see why. You’re an absolute treasure. You look after my boy now, won’t you?”

I nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

She kissed my cheek, then hugged Peter. “And you give this boy everything he needs, you hear?” she told Peter.

The corner of his lip curled up. “I do, Mom.”

God, I thought I might possibly die from embarrassment. Oblivious to the innuendo, she walked us out to the car so she could wave us off. It took me a few blocks before I could speak. “You give me everything I need? Did you really just tell your Mom that you give me everything I need?”

Peter laughed loudly. “I’m not going to lie to my own mother!”

“Oh God. Is it possible to die from blushing? Can the blood rush to my face be fatal?”

He laughed some more. “Did you like her?”

“She’s amazing. You’re so alike.”

He nodded. “Thank you for meeting her. It meant a lot that you would do that for me.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“Including meeting my friends?” He looked hopeful.

“Of course I’ll meet them.”

“Good, because I might have already made plans?”

I stared at him. “You what?”

“Dinner, next weekend, at my place.”

I wasn’t a fan of surprises. “Peter…”

He took my hand and kissed from my knuckles up my wrist, as far as he could while he was driving. “Yanni,” he said with a wicked smile. “Be a good boy and say yes.”

I laughed. “Oh, you’re gonna play the Daddy card now?”

He grinned. “Did it work?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it did. But you need to make it up to me tonight.”

He laughed and wiggled in his seat, happiness beaming out of him. “Oh, I plan to.”

* * *

Spending the afternoon with Peter’s mom and hearing Peter’s coming out story and the sadness in Katia’s voice got me thinking. So when we were back at his place, Peter was in the kitchen fixing salad for dinner and I sat on the counter out of his way, I wanted to know his whole story but wasn’t sure how to ask.

“Peter, can I ask you something?”

He continued to slice the avocado. “Of course.”

“I don’t want to upset you, so you can say no if you want. I don’t mean to dredge up bad memories, so if you’d rather not talk about it, that’s okay.”

“You want to know about my father?”

I nodded. “I know you’ve said he was an angry drunk, and I know what that means,” I said quietly. “I just want to know your story, that’s all.”

He set the avocado aside and leaned against the counter. “He was an alcoholic. And yes, he was an angry drunk. He would beat my mother. One of my earliest memories, I remember being very young, maybe four or five, and hearing them fight in their room. He was yelling and she was crying, something smashed against the wall, and I hid in my bed.”

“Oh, my God.”

“It got better for a few years. Well, it didn’t get any worse. But when I was nine, he got laid off and would drink all day.” Peter frowned. “He was so angry at everything. The world owed him, or so he thought. And he took it out on her. Then when she wasn’t enough, he started on me.”

“Oh, Peter.” I slid off the counter and went to him, putting my arms around him.

“He did a stint in jail after that, and things were good for us. Until he got out. We’d moved, but he found us. I was in high school by then, almost as big as him. He turned up, and I stopped him before he set one foot on the front step.”

I squeezed him tight. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said. “Twenty-five years ago, actually.” He kissed the top of my head. “I can talk about it now.”

Still, reliving such a horrible time would never be easy, no matter how much time had filled the void between.

“He was rotten drunk, and I launched myself at him from the top step. I’d never hit anyone before or since, but I punched the shit outta him right then and there. I hit him for every time he’d hurt my mom, for every time he’d hit me. And when he was a bloodied mess on the front lawn, I dragged his ass to the curb with the garbage cans and told him to never come back.”

I smiled at that. “I’m glad you did.”

“We never saw him again. Heard he died a few years after that. Don’t know the details; never wanted to find out.”

“That’s why you don’t drink.”

“Never touched a drop.”

I squeezed him again and breathed his scent, reveling in his warmth. “You’re an amazing man, Peter.”

He sighed contentedly and rubbed my back. “Are you ready for dinner?”

I nodded. “Let me get it for you.” I served it up and carried our plates to the table, then the cutlery and some sparkling mineral water. While we ate, he told me the story of the guy in the photo with him at college, and even though it was funny, there was an edge of sadness in his eyes that I was certain the memories of his father dredged up. I was grateful he told me about his father―I felt closer to him now―but I felt awful that I’d caused him pain in asking.

When he’d put his fork down for the final time, I stood up and swung my leg over him so I could sit on his lap. I draped my arms around his neck and nudged his nose to mine before kissing him slowly. When we drew apart, he hummed. “What was that for?”

“For being you,” I replied. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe we have some promises to keep.”

His eyes flashed with curiosity and questions. “Promises?”

I kissed him again. “Yep. You promised you’d make it up to me tonight for organizing a dinner party next weekend so I could meet your friends without asking me.”

He smiled. “Oh, right. Well, that’s one. You said promises, as in plural.”

“Last night I promised that tonight, when we make love,” I whispered, kissing him again. “That I’d take all of you.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. “Now, that I remember.”

“And you told your mom today that you’d give me everything I need.”

“I did.”

“I need you, Peter.” I rolled my hips, feeling his hardening dick pushing against his jeans. It made me whimper.

Peter pulled my mouth to his, and keeping his huge hands on my thighs, he stood up. For a brief moment, I thought he considered laying me on the dining table, but he turned instead and carried me to his room.

“I like carrying you like this,” he said.

I tightened my legs and hooked my ankles over his ass. “I like it too.”

He took his time undressing me. And he took so long preparing me, stretching me, getting me ready to take him, I was writhing on his fingers, pleading with him that I was ready, but he was adamant. “I don’t want to hurt you. Be patient, and I promise I’ll make you feel so good…”

I couldn’t argue with that.

He kissed me, massaged me, stroked me, caressed me. He ran his hands over every inch of my skin, kissed me some more, murmured sweet nothings in my ear. He didn’t just get my ass ready. He got my whole body ready. And when he had me on my back with a pillow shoved under my ass, my legs spread wide, I was so pliable, so relaxed, and so turned on.

He applied lube, and when I thought he was done, he applied some more. Then, leaning over me, sliding his arms under my shoulders, he pressed his cock to my ready hole and slowly, slowly, pushed into me.

He held me tenderly, one arm now under my neck, the other holding the top of my head. He kissed me, watching my every reaction. My eyes were wide as he breached me, my mouth open, my knees up near my chest as my body succumbed to taking him in. He was so gentle, so patient, every movement was for my benefit, not his.

“God, I love you,” I murmured, arching my back and taking more of him inside me until I’d taken every inch. I was so full of him, it felt so good, I cried out, whined and moaned.

He froze. “Yanni?”

“Don’t move,” I pleaded. If he pulled out of me, I was sure I’d die. I locked my legs around him so he couldn’t move. “Please, don’t stop.”

He rolled his hips and held my face as a long whining noise escaped me. “Oh, good boy,” he said before covering my mouth with his. He gave me his tongue and I was lost, completely consumed by him. He owned my ass and my mouth, my heart and soul, and there was something so utterly freeing in giving him my control.

He was my safety, the cage in which I was safe to fly.

Then he started to thrust, slow and deep, my cock pressed between our bodies, sliding, and it was everything I needed. And when he changed his angle and slid into me again, I saw fireworks behind my eyes. “Holy fuck!” I cried out, gripping him with all my strength, digging my fingers into his skin. “More.”

Peter groaned and did it again and again. “Feels good when I do that?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy.” I’d heard of prostate orgasms, but I’d never… I’d never… oh, fuck. I didn’t recognize the sound that came out of my throat as I came. A pleasure so blinding exploded inside me, and I shot thick and hot between us, my cock untouched.

Peter cupped my face and held me until my orgasm subsided, the look on his face one of wonder and love. “Such a good boy,” he grated out as my legs splayed out onto the bed. I was completely spent, my bones were nothing but sponge, but he was still buried inside me, and God, he felt so good.

He somehow felt better after I’d come. The sensations were tenfold, yet I was more pliable. He could do whatever he wanted to me in that moment—move me, shape me, shift me—and I’d welcome it. As long as he stayed inside me.

“I want you inside me forever,” I whispered, my brain hazy with post-orgasm bliss, my body like a ragdoll.

He leaned back over me so he could kiss me, and he thrust again, slow and long, making me feel every inch over and over. “You’re such a good boy,” he said, his voice gruff, his breaths ragged. “Do good boys get rewards?”

I nodded desperately. A shiver of a new kind of pleasure rolled through me. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

And that was all it took. He thrust deep and groaned as he came inside me. I could feel each pulse, every jerk of his cock as he spilled his load.

He collapsed on top of me, still inside me, exactly where I wanted him. “Stay inside me,” I whispered.

He tightened his arms around me, and we fell asleep just like that.