TW: Mild lemon zest at the end of the chapter. No worries, though, it doesn't last long. Neither does Enrique. x.x

Enrique

"My parents want to meet you," Oliver said after we left the airport, both agreeing that it was a significantly better option than driving. "I mean, they didn't know I was in Italy in the first place so I needed to offer up an explanation before asking for them to send a jet over."

I hadn't found it odd that he'd asked me to accompany him. We were officially a couple now and it wouldn't have felt right for me to send him on his way alone. As much as my mom was against me going anywhere out of her line of vision in the near future, she seemed to understand that we wanted to spend time together and that it couldn't always be with my family. He had parents who missed him too on top of a job that he had already taken significant time off of, his sister briefly taking over during his absence.

"What do you mean they want to meet me?" I asked, "Your parents already know me,"

"I told them I was spending time with my boyfriend," He explained. "There is a possibility, no matter how small, that I may have left out the part where that boyfriend is you."

"Did you feel weird outing me to them or something?"

"Not exactly." His chauffeur was the same man I had met at the art show, still giving me a bit of a distrusting glare. He was probably the only person in their lives who didn't know who I was; yet he was also the only one who had to bare witness to Oliver sucking on my tongue in the back seat before putting a privacy guard up the last time I had ended up going home with him. "My parents don't like you. At all."

I blushed, wishing I was more surprised than I actually was. At the end of the day, I had wronged him all those years ago. I wasn't sure his parents even knew that I was back in his life at all, let alone that we had made anything official.

"Should I be afraid?"

"Nah, it'll just be a set of twenty questions that you'll be answering with your head in a guillotine, super easy stuff."

I shoved him playfully, immediately pulling him in for a kiss after. It felt different suddenly, no longer a secret that I had been hiding. In a way it was as though an enormous weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Sure his parents didn't like me, but they accepted having a gay son and there would be no get together in order to out myself while debating whether or not I would still have a home afterward.

"Did your parents like your ex?" I asked, hoping it wasn't strange that I brought him up again.

"Sort of. They didn't really love the age difference, but they concluded relatively quickly that he had a good heart. I think it helped that he didn't know I came from wealth when we first met, at least not to the full extent. He had no interest in my families money, though, which is always a concern when you're dating someone from a working class family."

"Age difference?"

"Jean Pierre was twenty two when we first went out."

Hang on… Oliver dated a guy who was a year younger than I am now when he had just turned eighteen? That was a four year age difference, which might not be a big deal when you're both in your thirties, or even your late twenties, but he had hardly finished secondary school and if he hadn't graduated early-

Wait… That couldn't be.

"Didn't you say you had a boyfriend during your first year of college?"

"That's right," He nodded, giving a look as though he wondered where I was going with this.

"You graduated early though, you would have been seventeen that year."

He face froze, words mashing together as he tried to dig himself out of the sudden hole I'd stuck him in.

"Well… I mean…"

"You were seventeen and dating a twenty two year old?!"

"It's not like he knew that in the beginning and even if he did, I'll remind you that I was past the age of consent. Besides, we didn't start dating the second we met or anything like that. It wasn't as though I'd had a birthday and suddenly went hunting for a boyfriend. We were friends first."

He gave me an annoyed eye roll, leaning back into the seat of the car and looking out the window. It wasn't hard to tell he didn't want to talk about it, which I couldn't say I blamed him for. I mean, you occasionally heard stories of kids dating outside their age range in secondary school, such as someone in their third or fourth year dating someone significantly older, and he was completely in the right in regards of being passed the age of consent. I couldn't even claim my concern wasn't hypocritical, as I likely would have had no issue with the age difference had I been the one in his shoes. Hell, even if he hadn't been of age, five years wasn't enough of an age gap to remove them from the safety of a Romeo and Juliette clause, meaning he was right, the two of them had done nothing viewed as illegal or immoral.

Was I overreacting?

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad about it, Ollie," I explained, setting my hand on his lap as we pulled up to his families mansion. I didn't want him giving me the silent treatment right now, I was too nervous about what his parents were going to say to me. He didn't go into detail after saying they didn't like me, making me start to wonder exactly what it was that he meant by it. Was it something that had happened after I had abandoned him the way that I did or had it always been the case? We were together all the time during the summer while growing up and I'd never been under the impression that they didn't want me around or anything like that. On the contrary, his parents had always treated me very kindly when I was a kid, outside of the fact that they used to repeatedly remind me to reapply deodorant while I was going through puberty, making me sometimes envy Oliver in those years for being a late bloomer. Honestly, I still wasn't convinced he had the ability to grow facial hair.

He unbuckled just as the car parked, not even waiting for the driver to open the door for him, which I was used to him being relatively religious about. Even at home I recall him always staying in that caricature mode of being a proper gentleman. It wasn't that I sometimes forgot we weren't teenagers anymore, but I did forget how much of his personal growth I had missed.

Following him to the house, he hardly even looked my way before letting me in, just closing the door as we removed our shoes on the accent rug and stepped off atop the freshly shined wooden floors. They looked new, but I wasn't completely sure, only knowing that his family had a stone floor entry way the last time I was here. Not counting when he had sneaked me in of course, as I hadn't paid any attention to what the floors looked like.

"Mama, Papa," He called happily, voice echoing through the large open kitchen area. The appliances were all new as well, something that both did and didn't surprise me when it came to his career path. Their entryway kitchen had always been about half the size of the one that was on the third floor and was normally the one containing items that appeared nicer to the human eye, where the chefs kitchen normally had more necessary tools such as four different large ovens and gigantic mixers that his sister got stuck in once after talking us into playing hide and seek with her. That was really the one I expected to see a larger update on, not the one down here.

"In the sitting room, chéri," I heard his mother call, voice as smooth and becoming as ever.

He looped his arm into mine while I made an attempt to pretend I my heart wasn't about to leave my chest. I had never wished I was the shorter one on a relationship before, but I currently didn't hate the idea of being able to cower behind all 40 kilograms of him.

Unfortunately for me, Oliver didn't appear nervous whatsoever as he pulled me gently forward, only slowing down when we made it to the entryway of the room they sat in and taking a moment to shoot me a small smile before walking in and giving me no choice but to follow, even though he'd allowed me to free myself of his grasp and slow my pace behind him.

His parents faces both lit up instantly as he set foot on the luxury Persian rug, his mother getting onto her feet to greet him even though he'd hardly been gone for three days.

"Welcome home, dear," She smiled, kissing him softly on the cheek. "It's much too quiet without you, I swear there was a point where I considered having one of the maids wash a sink of clean pots and pans just so there was noise back in my life," Her eyes remained entirely on Oliver as she spoke, running fingers through any strands of hair that were out of place on his head and adjusting his shirt collar the same way he'd done to me that morning. It wasn't until she finished the small routine that she turned her head my direction, the welcoming smile remaining up until the point where our eyes met. Honestly she didn't so much seem upset to see me as she appeared confused. "Enrique?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, the exact same face Oliver made when faced with uncertainty. "What on earth?"

"I invited him," He quickly stepped in, taking the attention away from me just as his father had also gotten to his feet. "Pardon me for such rudeness, I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" His mother asked. "I mean, I suppose I don't? I was under the impression you were bringing a significant other, though. Had I misheard you over the phone?"

"You didn't."

"So then I suppose that gentleman will be joining us later?"

Oliver smiled, taking small steps back until the two of us were side to side and holding onto me the way he'd recently become the most comfortable, wrapping himself around whatever arm he was closest to.

"Enrique is that gentleman, but I figured since our families already knew one another that it would be a more appropriate conversation to have within each others presence instead of over the phone."

"I'm sorry dear, but I don't think I understand."

"He's my boyfriend, mama."

His family dynamic had always felt so strange to me, openly explaining something that had me terrified with not a spec of fear regarding the outcome. If I were in his shoes, I would have been scared to death at the idea of admitting the person they hated was also the person I had fallen for. Not that I had ever expected that person to be me, of course. It still felt strange accepting that he returned the feelings I'd developed for him. In all honesty my sister was right in what she'd said, he could do much better than me.

Olivia Boulanger looked back and forth between the two of us, face becoming warped in either confusion or disgust. It was possible it was a mix of both.

"I suppose I hadn't expected you to stick around after my son informed me that you were back in Europe." She said with a soft huff. "I was under the impression… Never mind."

"Yeah well," I shrugged, trying to act as natural as possible. "Oliver was under the impression that I was straight, so I guess we're all guilty of assuming sometimes."

She eyed me uncomfortably, which didn't seen to bother Oliver in the slightest. It could be hard to tell sometimes if he actively ignored things or if he struggled with picking up social cues, but either way he pulled me further into the sitting room, dropping onto the couch while taking me down with him.

"Enrique," Olivia began after clearing her throat, "I was unaware you were interested in men. Is that related to your sudden departure those years ago?"

Shame and embarrassment filled my body and I slumped forward slightly. The space we took up felt too large and bare, as though I was a scared little mouse cowering in fear of his parents, who were hungry owls looking for an all too easy meal. There was nothing I could do but await my demise.

"We've already discussed it, mama," Oliver chimed in quickly. "I've forgiven him. The whole situation is behind us now."

"It's okay," I whispered, pulling him closer to me. It was normal for them to feel protective of him, he was their son and they knew how badly I had hurt him. I couldn't imagine what this entire thing looked like in their eyes and they had the right to an explanation. "I know that Oliver deserves better than me. The way I treated him then isn't something I can take back no matter how much I regret it. I didn't understand the things I was feeling at the time and to be completely honest I didn't even really know that being bisexual was am option, which confused me even more."

"I take it that's how you identify, then?" Olivia asked.

"I'm still a bit new to the whole label thing, I'm still attracted to women. I do feel that attraction towards some men as well, though, yes."

"What are your intentions with my son?"

I blushed, my mind going a bit in the gutter at her question. Not that I planned on telling his mother that we'd had sex. Given the way Oliver spoke to his parents I wouldn't be surprised if his sex life was occasionally a Sunday dinner conversation.

"I already told you, mama." He interrupted, "He's my boyfriend."

"I just don't want you getting hurt, Oliver."

"And I appreciate that, I truly do. We aren't children anymore, though. I'll be honest, I felt the same way that you do now when he first came back into my life. He really has managed to show me how much he's grown up, though. You of all people should know that I wouldn't date someone if I didn't believe them to have good intentions."

"I understand that, mon amour… but I also know how easily influenced you can be."

Neither him or his parents seemed bothered by the fact that this entire conversation regarding how much I low key sucked was happening right in front of me, which wasn't exactly shocking when you were aware of their understanding of social norms. His family wasn't the type to talk about anyone behind their backs, but were very willing to make snide comments directly to your face. I was pretty sure it was a Parisian thing.

"All I'm asking," He continued, "Is for you to give him a chance. I did and I don't regret it."

His mother looked to me now, face softening while still lacking any look of trust of understanding. She was pitying me.

"I feel I must ask, Enrique… are your parents aware that you identify as bisexual? Are you using my child as some sort of political statement?"

"Not at all," I shook my head. "I'm not using him for anything. My parents know that we're dating but the whole concept is still extremely new to them. They're trying, but it's going to take time."

"He loves me, mama. I know he does," He laid his head on my shoulder, giving my arm a tight squeeze while maintaining full eye contact. He was good at turning up the charm when he needed to, even when the people he hoped to persuade were his parents. "He's told me."

"Hang on, how long has this even been happening? Love feels like a strong word, even for an Italian."

"He's pretty much been trying to woo me ever since coming back," Ollie said with a sheepish grin. "He isn't the only one who feels it, though. I wouldn't be taking a chance on him if there wasn't something there." He paused, suddenly avoiding all eye contact. "I… love him too."

For a moment, no one said anything, then his mother let out a knowing sigh. There was no changing Oliver's mind after he had made it up.

"You know that your father and I will be there for you no matter what happens. If Enrique makes you happy, then so be it." She looked at me, "But if you hurt my son, I assure you that you will regret it."

He smiled, giving me a small peck on the lips that caught me off guard. I had kissed girls in front of my own parents before and was sure I wasn't the only boy Oliver had kissed in front of his, but it still felt like such new territory, as though we were doing something forbidden.

"Would it be alright if he stays the night? I would hate to have him go through the trouble of coming all this way with me just to send him back home. Besides, his family was kind enough to host me over the weekend."

"That decision is up to you. As you said before, you're an adult. You do need to figure out a plan to go back to work, though. Taking this much time off isn't the best business practice."

"Of course."

For a moment, he simply held me tightly, eyes closed while mine remained locked with his mothers. If looks could kill, I would have been a heaping pile of ash by now.

"I would never hurt him," I said quietly, shaking my head in shame. I knew what she was thinking. "Never again," I added, "It's the biggest regret I've ever had."

Reluctantly, she looked away.

XXX

Enrique

"You weren't lying," I mumbled, giving a shy smile as we made our way up to the top floor of the mansion. Oliver had never mentioned switching bedrooms, meaning I'd embarrassed myself by asking where he was going after noticing he'd hit the highest button inside the elevator. Throughout our entire childhood, along with the last time I had been here, his room had always been on the third floor of the central wing. The move had to have happened extremely recently. "You're parents absolutely hate me."

"They'll come around. I hated you too when you first came back."

"You said you forgave me."

"I did eventually."

The doors opened to reveal a large living quarters, complete with a kitchen, dining area and a small study that was taken up mostly by art supplies, a large easel propped up next to the floor to ceiling window that looked out into the garden below.

Turning around as the elevator closed, he inserted a key into a lock that sat just below the button which was used to bring us back downstairs, locking off the level from the remainder of the home.

"I see you updated your living situation," I smiled, "It's an impressive space."

"It actually used to be a servants quarters a long time ago, before I was even born. Once my parents had the apartments next door renovated for the help it simply became unused, so I asked if I could have it. I redesigned the whole thing by myself, from the species of tree the wood floors came from right down to the marble counter tops. It took ages to find a design I liked, I must have gone through at least a dozen slabs."

"I can't believe you just admitted to living in the old maids quarters."

"You should have seen what it looked like before I re-branded it," He giggled, "You know my opinion on beige."

"That it only belongs on walls."

"Exactly."

"And the pants that you're currently wearing."

He gave me a light smack on the shoulder, unable to stop a small smirk from filling his face. "My pants are off white, and you know it's not too late for me to change my mind about this relationship. I am not below breaking up with you."

"Yeah, but if you were much shorter you would be below the counter tops you like so much."

"That's it, I'm declaring myself single."

I ran my hands gently down his arms, stopping just above his waistline and locking myself firmly to his hips, pulling him just close enough to my body to get the reaction that I desired.

We were finally alone, sober, and I wanted him hot and bothered.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked with a sly grin, leaning him into the wall with the weight of my body as I brought my lips to his neck as gently as I could muster.

He stiffened at my touch, a tiny gasp escaping from his mouth before his arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. For awhile I just nibbled at his neck, tightening the grip I had on him and finding myself becoming more and more excited each time he moaned. Our last time had happened so quickly, there had been no letting it sink in.

This wasn't a one night stand though, this was me wanting to have sex with my boyfriend.

Seeing as this was my first time seeing his new living space, he was the one who had to walk me into the large bedroom, bringing me down with him as he plopped onto the soft mattress of the freshly made bed, smelling strongly of linens. How new was this room, exactly? Had he even started sleeping in here yet?

"Do you have a condom?" He asked in between breaths, "I threw the ones I had left away, they were expired."

"No shit," I laughed. "I have one in my wallet."

"You aren't supposed to keep them there."

"Yeah well, you aren't supposed to keep them for four years either, but I didn't complain." We both giggled as I pulled his shirt over his head, bringing my lips to his bare chest and filling it with gentle kisses, his ticklish body flinching slightly at each one, going into a full tremor when my lips touched an exposed nipple. Mostly he remained still, leaning back not-so-patiently as he waited for me to make the first move. It didn't actually surprise me that he was a pillow princess, although last time I had chalked up his lack of participation with nerves. It had been a new experience being with someone we already knew and neither of us had actually finished, something that had been eating away at me since.

I wanted to know what he sounded like when he climaxed.

Taking the condom out of my wallet, I didn't take my eyes off him as we undressed, keeping myself wrapped tightly around his limber body. I had to tear the wrapper open with my mouth, careful not to break it or apply it inside out, which I had done when I lost my virginity. Within the same instant he'd pulled out a small bottle of lube, though I hadn't seen from wear, and didn't break eye contact as he emptied a generous amount onto my hand, letting out a small gasp the moment I slipped a finger inside him.

Did he want to fool around first? Did he want me to just go all the way? Hell, I could hardly remember what we had done the last time, trying to recall if I had gone down on him before or after we'd had sex and smiling slightly at the memory of being asked afterward if I had ever done that before, which I had, I couldn't imagine someone experimenting and not wondering what it feels like to have a cock in their mouth. It had been months ago now and I mostly remembered him falling asleep in my arms afterward. For an hour I had just watched him, wondering if he knew how beautiful he was.

"Is this okay? Like, are you ready for me to…?" I asked, hoping it came out sounding romantic and not creepy. All he did was nod, clutching tightly to me as I positioned myself over him, the sensation of our bodies combined into one making me pant heavily. Every time he clenched I could feel it, muscles tightening desperately around my dick as though he was hanging on for dear life. Damn if I didn't suddenly regret all the times I joked about him being a tight-ass.

We didn't have to be quick; we didn't have to be quiet or worry about getting caught. I could focus all of the energy I had into making him feel amazing, losing it more and more each time he attempted to stop himself from moaning. That meant he liked it, right? I'd managed to find his sweet spot? Could it also mean he was in pain, though? Should I ask if I was hurting him? Fuck, maybe he had a point in what he had said the first time, maybe I really was bad at this.

I honestly didn't know how long it lasted, upping my speed every time his breathing increased while desperately hoping I didn't blow before he did. That was all I fucking needed was to cum prematurely like a fifteen year old. After some time I could feel it becoming too much though, I could hardly keep myself propped up on shaking legs as the sensation increased, and at the sound of him calling out my name in a gasping breath of air I knew I wouldn't be able to prevent the inevitable, exhaling several deep breaths at the pulsing sensation of my own spunk shooting out of me, having no choice but to throw myself down onto the mattress in a state of complete and utter exhaustion. I couldn't tell if he was upset with the outcome or not as he nuzzled himself into my chest, the combined heat of our bodied causing beads of sweat to run down my face and neck. I was panting like a dog.

Neither of us said anything, shame flowing through me at my inability to get him off even after giving it my absolute all, on top of assuming that I would last more than ten minutes…

"I've never seen you do that before." Ollie mumbled into my chest.

"Do what?"

"Have an orgasm."

My face grew even hotter, something I didn't know was still possible. Had seeing me in that state of vulnerability done something for him?

"I was hoping it would be you," I admitted.

"It doesn't matter, I'm fine."

He was still aroused though, something I noticed relatively quickly even as he attempted to hide the evidence. As much as he was pretending I hadn't, it was obvious that I'd ruined the moment.

"I've always been more interested in learning what you sound like," I smirked, trying as hard as I could to dial up the charm. Did it actually sound sexy when I spoke like this, or did I just sound like an asshole?

"Sound like?" He questioned.

"When you cum. I'm so used to you feeling this need to be proper and bottle everything up."

He blushed shyly, and without saying more, I propped myself up onto my elbows, moving slowly down his waistline before lowering my mouth onto his penis and running my tongue gently along the head as he tightly clenched his ab muscles and gasped. Grabbing tightly at the bedding, he bucked up his hips in an attempt to not thrust, the movement pulling the fitted sheet off the corner of the mattress as he squirmed. It took seconds for it to happen, legs shaking uncontrollably as he held his breath, proving how close he had been just before I'd finished prematurely.

Letting out a sudden gasp of air through his nostrils, he opened his mouth just enough for a high pitched moan to escape, the feeling of a warm, thick liquid hitting the back of my throat.

It was the first time I ever swallowed.