In Between

“I’m going to open my own gallery.” Ethan’s voice hinted at hesitation, but I finished pouring my second cup of coffee before turning to acknowledge him.
I leaned on the kitchen counter, my dick tenting my lounge pants at the sight of my partner in his new Armani suit. The lithe swimmer’s body beneath the slim-fitted wool had writhed beneath my hold not an hour earlier—one last fuck before I left for an extended business trip to London.
“Why are you bringing this up now?” I asked and sipped as his hazel-eyed gaze flitted to our condo’s door then to his fingers fiddling with the top button of his coat.
“Because I know you don’t want me to, and I don’t want to fight,” he said, resignation weighing his tone as he lifted his head and met my gaze.
“That’s a shit thing to drop on me this morning,” I said, annoyed at his timing, yet still turned on by his hot-as-fuck appearance.
“I figured it would give you a few weeks to accept my decision.”
I kept my lips sealed to the rim of my coffee cup and sucked down the black, bitter brew, wishing for a nice Grey Goose on the rocks instead.
“I need to do this for myself, Damien.” While I couldn’t feel his emotions like he could mine with his empathic abilities, his gaze implored me to understand. “I want to follow my own dreams for once, and I would really like your support.”
Dreams of making something of himself in the art world had plagued Ethan since I’d met him our freshman year in college. With opposites attracting and both of us being bi, we’d ended up fucking before the first semester’s end. He’d become an addiction I couldn’t resist, a softer soul to my hardened one, his gift at feeling my emotions a relief since I didn’t know how to communicate them.
When my stepfather had run my grandfather’s financial firm into the dust our sophomore year, it had been Ethan who kept me from losing my shit. Riches to rags in a matter of a few hours, my mother and I were blindsided by the man we had both admired and put on a pedestal. He sat in jail for the dozens of counts of fraud he’d been found guilty of. Ethan’s financial genius—along with his ability to read people—had been what saved my family’s name.
“We’re just now getting Fiorenza Financial back to where it was in my grandfather’s time,” I said, setting my coffee aside and crossing my arms. “I need you.”
His wry smile through a dark trimmed beard usually made my balls tighten, but lust lacked in his eyes, diminishing mine. “You need me, yes, but do you love me?”
“You’re the only one I trust,” I answered as I always did when he asked me that question. “I can’t even trust my own mother’s judgement.”
“But if you do trust me, what’s stopping you from saying that four-letter word?”
We’d had this conversation countless times. Irked yet again, I fought to keep from huffing in annoyance. “The last person I told that ruined my family name.”
We studied one another in silence, something that came much easier for Ethan than me. My heart beat faster in my chest but not out of physical need. Reality bent—shifted beneath my feet as though my life beyond that point would be changed forever. Still, I held my silence, unable to give him what he needed. Even if I’d wanted to tell him the truth of how I cared for him, my tightening throat wouldn’t allow my lips movement.
“I’ve asked you for two things in the past few years,” Ethan finally said, resignation lowering his voice once more. “A declaration of your love and support of my dreams. You can’t give me either.”
“I’m an asshole,” I muttered since stating the reality of my personality came easier than putting my emotions into words.
“You are, but I love you.” His brow furrowed slightly. “I understand your need for control, Damien. I can feel it emanating off you every minute of the goddamn day, but it’s only a word.”
“We’ve been together for fifteen years. You know how I feel about you.” I grabbed my coffee and strode into the living room, my stomach roiling, tension eating at my brow and shoulders.
Talking about my emotions didn’t come easy. Ethan’s entrance into my life prior to the bastard almost destroying me and my mother had kept him safe from my cynical thoughts and mistrust. Closer than a brother, closer than blood, Ethan had become a part of me. The one I looked out for when he became overwhelmed by his empathy. The one I held tight when the emotions of others wore his own emotions thin.
“Why can’t you just say it?” Ethan asked, following on my heels like a bulldog with its teeth sunk into my skin—something he didn’t usually do.
I sat on the leather couch overlooking Boston’s skyline, the rising sun hinting at a beautiful summer morning. A fucking Monday morning, a few hours before my plane departed, and my partner felt the need to dive into his insecurities, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to voice what he wanted to hear. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I heaved a heavy exhale.
“I would like to have your blessing, Damien.” The finality of his tone dropped my heart.
“You’re doing this regardless of what I think or say, aren’t you?” I asked, turning my head to capture his stare, my hand clenching the mug in fear of the answer I knew rested in his mind.
His chin tipped upward the slightest bit, an act of defiance I would usually enjoy fucking out of him. “Yes.”
Lips pressed tight, I turned away, seeking to control my anger, disappointment, and hurt. Losing control over my life and all who had the ability to influence it didn’t settle well, and that damn shifting reality beneath me almost buckled my hold on my emotions.
“Maybe it’s time for a break.”
I jerked my head toward Ethan, a scowl denting my brow as a knife-like ache pierced my chest. “What?”
“A break.” He motioned between us. “See other people. Maybe that will help you figure out what your true feelings are for me.” A half-snort of laughter I didn’t find the least bit amusing puffed past his lips. “I used to love the fact you’re able to keep most of your emotions hidden from me, but for the first time, I wish my empath abilities conquered you as well.”
I stared at him until he turned away, his shoulders tense and straight, showing a backbone I’d never seen before. Ethan deserved my worship, my goddamn allowance of control, but giving it over festered like a sickness in my head.
“Are you breaking up with me?” I managed to rasp past my dry throat.
Ethan didn’t vocalize his thoughts, but a slight shift of one shoulder turned my stomach to stone and narrowed my eyes.
I set my mug on the coffee table in front of me and stood, stalking toward him. He dropped his gaze and shuffled away from me until he hit the wall. Grasping the back of his neck, I squeezed until he winced and wilted in my hold.
“You’re fucking breaking up with me?” I growled close to his ear, loving how he caved to my dominance so easily. What a fucking pair we made…
“I-I need more than you’re willing—”
I grabbed his flaccid cock with my free hand, stroking him through his slacks. “You groaned my name less than an hour ago while my dick was buried in your ass.”
His dick twitched in my hold. “Please,” he half-whispered but without the longing that usually coated his voice when I held him in my hand.
“Do you want to date other men, Ethan? Do you want another man’s cock shoved down your throat while you kneel before him? Will you beg him like you do me?” I backed off enough to see his face. Eyes clenched shut and lower lip between his teeth, he seemed to fight his natural submission to me.
“Or do you want pussy?” I whispered, my own dick jerking in my pants. We’d shared a few women over the years for fun, but I thought we’d been content with one another. “Is that it, Ethan? You want a wet, willing hole to thrust your dick into? An emotional female you can coddle? Do you need softness to love since I’m such a cold-hearted bastard?”
“Damien.” His strangled tone leaked pre-cum from my dick.
“Tell me what you want,” I whispered against his ear and bit on his lobe.
“Goddamn you.” He pushed away from me with more force than I expected, swallowed, and straightened his suit coat with shaking hands.
Ethan had never pulled or pushed away from me—ever.
I stared, arms at my sides, hands fisting. “You’re sending me off to London for a month with this shit between us?”
“I’m sorry, Damien, but I can’t go on like this any longer.” He turned and strode away, shoulders hunched, but determination in his footfalls. “I need to take care of me for a change.”
Our condo’s door closed behind him with a soft click, and I stared, waiting for him to return and call a late April fool’s joke, to tell me he was just busting my balls.
He didn’t.
“What the fuck?” I muttered, scrubbing a hand down over my unshaved face. Two days-worth of stubble scraped my palm, and I swore again. Ethan had broken up with me. “Fuck.” My erection flagged as I moved back to the master bedroom we had shared for over ten years.
Navy-blue rumpled sheets held evidence of our fucking, lube and cum smears only slightly dried. I’d held him down by the neck, staring into his pupil-dominated eyes while fucking him, his hands gently wrapped around my wrists with complete trust—something I thought I’d given him, the one man who deserved it the most from me.
I had given him my trust—and he’d yanked the goddamn rug from beneath my feet with one conversation.
Jaw clenched against the pain I remembered all too well, I hopped in the shower, determined to keep my mind on what truly mattered—the deal awaiting me in London. The opening of an overseas office, the expansion that would take Fiorenza Financial from household to global.
Closing the deal in London would be easy for me, but I needed Ethan for the shaping of our business’ future since he had a gift for investments and numbers like my grandfather had.
Close the deal.
“And in four weeks,” I muttered while drying off, “I’ll return and reclaim the man who belongs to me.”

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