Sally was still a colossal bitch, which hadn’t surprised Corey in the least, but he had hoped that she would have been a little kinder to him considering he hadn’t been home in so many years. But nope. Still only let things happen the way she wanted to happen, and if you didn’t go along with it, then fuck you.
But Corey wasn’t like her Daddy. He wasn’t just going to lay down and roll over like her father did whenever her mother started screaming and stomping her little feet. Corey was going to fight for what he wanted, and he wanted his fucking bedroom. He figured he deserved that much after all the shit he had done so she could get what she wanted - he wasn’t asking for fucking much. He just wanted a good bed, not some cheap thrifty mattress that they’d had since they bought the fucking house, one bought to be uncomfortable enough that a guest wouldn’t want to stay long term.
And this kid she was fucking - Corey hadn’t quite figured Andrew out. He was either very naive, stupid, or he was so distracted by his dick that he didn’t realize what kind of she-devil his wife was.
Sally was a real piece of work. She was stunning and brilliant, but even more than that she was very self centered. He doubted there had ever been a minute of her life when she hadn’t circled a thought back around to herself. She had always wanted bigger, better things - she wanted prestige, money, freedom. She wanted what she wanted in the minute when wanted it and would claw her way through whatever or whoever stood in her way.
She also liked to have complete control over her own life, which was probably the only thing that Corey could relate to. They both had been from overbearing families and had probably been the only two in their entire hometown that wanted to know what was going on in the outside world. Sally decided the way to know that was an education, Corey figured it was the military. By being married he would get more freedom to choose where he lived - as well as make a chunk more of change - and she’d have her education paid for, so it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
But truthfully, there had never been an attraction to Sally. She was beautiful, this was true, but he had been around her long enough that he knew the raging beast hiding underneath her porcelain skin and fluttering lashes. She would never be in a partnership. It would always be about her. But he was a horny teenager so he tried to do the partner thing with her - he tried to have sex, but even there she was all about focusing on her own pleasures, telling him how she wanted it and demanding he do it her way or else she’d start to criticize him. It made it all the more difficult for him to get into the right headspace, which he needed to be able to keep the rare erection.
He suspected pretty early on that he was different. He always figured he was asexual. No one ever did it for him. Sally was as good as it got, and she did nothing for him, no matter how hard he tried - and God knows he tried. He tried to find something, anything that would get him going, but it was hella hard. He found out that if he focused more on the actions of things, then he’d be able to get his blood pumping. If he thought about how good it would feel sliding into something tight and needy, thought about someone clinging to him tightly and holding onto him, crying out his name - that usually helped. He liked the think of something he could dominate that would try to steamroll him or boss him around, and that really did it for him.
And so it was damned near impossible having sex with Sally. She was obnoxiously loud, always trying to dictate things, always redirecting everything back to just her. If it was just half the time or, fuck, two thirds of the time, he probably wouldn’t have cared and would have adjusted, but it was Sally all the time, every time, the whole time. And then she’d be waiting there with an expectant look, or just get glassy-eyed while she waited for him to finish.
Both of them wanted to be in control. He figured that had been the root of their issues. Neither was happy just sitting back and waiting for the other to do something - they wanted to do it themselves and call the shots, and as neither was willing to happily compromise, sex had always been a struggle. He’d never been able to get off with her. Not once. It was hard enough to get off alone because his head was always filled with what he needed to do next with work or life, what the next step was toward what he wanted, what he needed to be doing to achieve his goals.
And he had always just...wanted to be independent. He wanted fucking control of his life. And the military had given that to him, but it had also locked him into a job that meant he was taking orders all day, every day. He did well in that job, very well, but still. He was someone else bitch, and he hated it.
Here he was, halfway through thirty, and he was finally where he had wanted to be.
And yet he was fucking miserable and somehow more frustrated than he’d ever been.
Sally was trying to push him out of the house he had paid for with sweat and blood, all his shit was covered in three inches of dust in the attic. And on top of that, there was some kid in his spot, fucking his wife, living in his house, and was even wearing his clothing!
Seeing Andrew in his things had initially pissed Corey off like few other things had been able to. He felt like the kid was trying to steal everything that he had worked for. What was even more irritating was that the kid seemed to hang on Sally’s every word, her own personal slave to order around. He didn’t doubt Andrew was the latest in a long, likely unbroken, succession of boytoys she had been keeping in the house, sleeping in his bed and wearing his freaking stuff.
He did wonder though if all the other boytoys she was, or had been, fucking were all like Andrew.
Andrew...didn’t seem to be a bad kid. He seemed completely thrown by Corey being there, which Corey took a twisted sort of enjoyment from, but there was a strange quality about the younger man that Corey couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It was a weird new feeling that Corey wasn’t used to. He’d really never had time to stop and really think about anything other than work or survival. That was how it had always been, right from the beginning. As a kid he had to fight to eat, fight to keep from being his dad’s punching bag, fight to have a roof over his head. As an adult fighting in a war, he had to fight to keep from being shot, or keep from having his location found. It was a never ending fight and he had been surrounded his entire life by other men that were fighting the same fucking fight.
But Andrew was oddly different than any of the other men he had been surrounded with throughout his career, his whole life.
It was probably because Andrew was so vulnerable looking - there was a softness in his gaze that the military would have beaten out of him before he found himself overseas where Corey was, or smacked out before primary school began back in his hometown. Beneath the anxious, twitchy look Andrew got when he looked at Corey, like he was worried Corey would pop him one, there was something like intense sympathy that Corey didn’t think he liked, especially not from his wife’s little bitch.
However…
There was something else that seeing Andrew stirred in him. It was hard to tell what the feeling was, or just what it was about Andrew that stirred it, but it did something to him. It made him frustrated and uncomfortable. He just wanted to grab the younger man and - he wasn’t sure. He wanted to throw him down and pin him, but he didn’t seem to want to beat the shit out of him, which he had seriously considered. What he wanted to do once he had Andrew down and immobilized, he wasn’t yet sure.
And he didn’t know if he really wanted to think too hard about it.
Corey was afraid of what he might discover about himself.
So he instead focused on Andrew to try and figure out what it was about him that seemed to capture his focus. Corey was pretty sure the kid was walking around with rose colored glasses, evident by how oblivious he was to Sally’s intentions. Or maybe he did know, and he didn’t care.
But judging by the look on Andrew’s face when he looked at Sally, Corey didn’t think Andrew knew just how thin the ice he was on was with Mrs. Corey Dawson and how soon she would be disposing of him.
Or maybe Andrew did.
Either way, Corey was going to figure it out.
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