After fixing Sally an egg sandwich for breakfast and packing her a salad for lunch, he bid her farewell with a long, lingering kiss that he was all too aware Mr. Dawson watched over like a hawk. When she was gone, Andrew was left in the kitchen with Mr. Dawson and he was so very, very lost.
He had no idea what to say.
What to do.
What to feel.
There was a long tense moment before Mr. Dawson spoke.
“Let’s talk.” Mr. Dawson said, fixing Andrew with a hard look as he came to stand closer to where Andrew was near the sink. Andrew swallowed thickly but nodded, crossed his arms over his naked chest to stare down at the floor. “I’m fine with this arrangement.” Mr. Dawson said, cutting right to the chase. “In fact, I’m actually relieved.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Andrew said to the ground.
“And why’s that?” Mr. Dawson asked carefully.
Andrew lifted his gaze but kept his chin lowered, meeting Mr. Dawson’s guarded gaze with a bright, annoyed one of his own. “Because I’m in love with Sally, and it would freaking bug me to see her kiss other people right in front of me.” Bug being a huge understatement. It hurt like few other things had been able to hurt him to see her naked next to her husband, but he was fully aware that he really didn’t get to be hurt by that. Andrew was, after all, the other man. The interloper. He should have seen this coming the second she told him she was married.
“Well, there’s the difference between you and me, kid.” Mr. Dawson drawled, “I’m not in love with her. I love certain aspects of her, but not her…” His eyes narrowed as his gaze hardened. “Sally doesn’t want to be tied down. She never did. The fact that she only been fucking you and you alone for nearly a year is fuckin’ stunning.” He said with a sneer, his jaw working then as he leaned an arm against the counter. “What is it exactly that you like about her, anyway? What makes you...love her?” He asked, his brows knitting together in confusion.
“I…” Andrew frowned and tightened his arms. “I like how she takes care of me.” he said, his gaze returning to the ground.
“Does she, though?” Corey poised, Andrew’s gaze jumping up to him then. “Because from what I see, you’re the one that’s been taking care of her.”
“It’s more than just cooking and, you know, sex.” Andrew said awkwardly, flushing. Talking about having sex with his lover’s husband felt...strange, to say the least. “I just can’t put it into words, but...she treats me...I don’t know...special.” He mumbled.
“I think you like that she has control over you, the security of not having to make the decisions.” Mr. Dawson said bluntly, Andrew frowning as he lifted his gaze to meet the gray gaze of an oncoming storm. “She’s always had power over you, right from the beginning….she was your teacher, this is her house you live in, she pays the bills.” He stated plainly. Andrew’s frown deepened as he thought about that, not disagreeing. “I think you’re looking for a parental figure to take care of you.”
Andrew jolted as this, scowling. “I’m not.” He snapped, harder then “Don’t say that.”
The older man didn’t look convinced. “Aren’t you?”
“Why are you saying that?” Andrew asked him then in a harsh, quiet tone, confused. “You said you were okay with this arrangement, but it feels like you’re trying to - I don’t know - make me question my relationship with her.” He said, taking a step back to press back against the counter. He felt trapped – he felt an anxiety attack coming on.
“I’m not trying to poke holes in your relationship, kid.” Mr. Dawson insisted, taking a step forward so that they were just a step apart. “I’m just trying to figure out what you want and what you need so I don’t step on your toes and make sure you’re getting out of this as much as I am.” He said, lifting his chin to look down at Andrew with a cool, calm gaze. “If I know what makes you feel good and what your kinks are, I can ensure it happens.” his lips parted and he hesitated for a beat before he said in a tone just slightly softer. “I can give you exactly what you want.”
Andrew frown deepened at this. He didn’t really know what to feel about that, so he asked softly “And what is it that you want?”
“I want what any man wants.” Mr. Dawson said simply “I want to fuck, I want to do so wherever and whenever I want, and I don’t want have to deal with Sally’s fuckin’ drama.” He said bluntly. “She wouldn’t be happy with just me. She never was. But like she said before, she’d be happy with the both of us. It’s keep her...occupied.”
“She was happy with just me until you came home.” Andrew said before he could stop himself. He immediately regret it and it showed on his face. His entire body deflated with the guilt at having said that out loud. He bitterly had thought it in his heart, but he had never wanted to say it, especially not to Mr. Dawson.
But Mr. Dawson didn’t look the least bit bothered. “I highly, highly doubt that...but seeing as you’ve been in her house for the past eight months….you could very well know better. But don’t be surprised if another man pops up and you find out he’s been around for longer than you thought.” He said coolly.
“Sally wouldn’t do that.” Andrew said to the ground. “She promised we’d be exclusive.” He said quietly.
They were quiet for a long minute before Mr. Dawson shifted his weight from leg to leg. “Well, she’s restless now, so if you want to keep her, you’re going to have to give this a try, and frankly, I can’t tolerate her alone, so I’d appreciate having you be a part of this so I can have breathing room…”
Andrew lifted his gaze to give the other man a weary look, meeting the other’s calm expression. He really was a different man without Sally around.
“I suggest we work on getting used to one another so we can be more comfortable with each other in the bedroom. You running off up there freaked Sally out and she started to chew on my ass for not being more personable.” He grounded out, lifting his gaze to glare at the ceiling briefly before he let out a hard exhale. When he lowered his gaze again, he looked to Andrew with a softer look in his eye. “I don’t want you to be...anxious. About this.”
Andrew slowly lowered his arms, dragging his hands down his side slowly before he held them on his hip, aware that the other man was watching his movement like a hawk. He felt very exposed. To exposed. “What do you suggest?” He asked nervously.
Mr. Dawson shrugged with an impassive gaze. “We can go to the gym together.” He suggested. “We can go right after you get off work for an hour, come back after Sally has breakfast. It was Sally’s idea.” He tacked on at the end.
Andrew thought about that for a minute before he nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s be something we could do.” He held a hand to his stomach and thought about how he’d like to be a bit more toned and Mr. Dawson gave him a wolfish grin. It was the first time he had seen the other smile outside of the nasty smirk he would give Sally whenever he had said something particularly mean to her. This was much, much nicer and made him look so much younger. Andrew smiled at him. “Thanks, Mr. Dawson.”
Mr. Dawson’s smile fell away. “Don’t call me Mr. Dawson. It makes me sound like your some neighbor kid.” He said firmly.
“Well, I did live just around the corner before I moved in.” Andrew said dryly, chuckling a little.
Mr. Dawson chuckled even drier. “Just call me Corey. If you call me Mr. Dawson, I’m going to assume you want to get spanked.” Andrew sputtered with a surprised laughter, reaching down to tighten the towel around his waist, making Corey grin again. “Daddy will work as well.” Corey teased after a beat.
“Corey will work just fine.” Andrew insisted as he grabbed the paper plate with the four pieces of cold, buttered toast. He turned to go toward the trash, but Corey caught his wrist and stopped him. The older man took the plate and carried it over to sit at the far end of the table so he was facing Andrew still and Andrew frowned. “It’s cold.” Andrew pointed out.
Corey held his gaze and he took a bit of one of the pieces of toast, flicking a brow at him as he chewed silently.
Andrew scoffed, but smiled before he turned to start making his own toast.
They ate in comfortable silence, Andrew taking his usual seat toward the middle of the table as he ate his own toast. When Corey finished, he got up and got Andrew a drink of orange juice, setting it down by him before he roughly ruffled Andrew’s hair. Andrew’s lips thinned as he twisted to looked up at Corey’s smirk as the older man stalked out of the kitchen to go upstairs.
When he was alone, Andrew slowly frowned down at his drink.
Well.
That was…
Something.
Andrew sat back and drank his juice, and when he was finished he washed his cup and put it away before throwing away both their paper plates, washing his hands before he went upstairs to get changed into a pair of boxers.
When he laid down on the bed, he almost immediately passed out, the events of the past two hours leaving him more wrung out than he had felt in years.
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