Everything About You

He agreed.

If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be in my bed practically every night or we wouldn’t be currently recovering from a hot, sweaty and very satisfying session of sex.

With a long sigh, I faced the fact that I needed to get up to shower, too. But the sex had left me boneless and lazy and not wanting to move.

It was even better now than when we were younger and had a lot more energy. In our twenties it was more about getting off. With us in our thirties, we took the time to appreciate each other. We no longer ripped off each other’s clothes and began immediately getting each other off. A fun competition of who could get the other off first.

Instead, I spent time worshipping every inch of Tate with my eyes, my fingers and my mouth. And Tate did the same with me.

Like the saying about fine wine, our sex life had definitely improved with age.

Even so, there had been a few times where, as soon as he walked in the door, I ripped his clothes off, bent him over the kitchen island and railed him so hard we both came within minutes.

Then there were the times he’d come in, find me working late in my home office, shove the paperwork on my desk aside and take me on it.

One time I’d been in the middle of a virtual meeting. I scrambled to hit the power button on my computer so we didn’t give my employees an unexpected show, where afterward they’d need to bleach both their eyes and brain.

Especially since it involved their boss having unrestrained anal sex. I could imagine the screenshots that would be jokingly used against me and I certainly didn’t want to see still shots of my facial expression when Tate was driving himself home.

I later apologized to everyone involved, using the excuse that my power cut out unexpectedly. When in truth, Tate had “powered” me from behind until we both fell to the floor in a sweaty, cum-covered mess.

I smiled at how hot and spontaneous that had been.

It had taken a few weeks before we changed it up and I bottomed for Tate. Now we switched back and forth, depending on our mood or who initiated.

A month ago we had both gotten tested and now went without condoms since we were exclusive. I’d been getting tested on the regular, but Tate hadn’t. With both of us having done random Grindr hookups for years, it was only smart to alleviate that worry.

Was going without a condom messier? Absolutely. Was it better? Damn right it was.

Another benefit was, by trusting Tate enough for us to go without one, it took us one more step forward.

With a groan, I roused myself from my comfortable bed and padded naked toward the bathroom.

Tate had a horrible habit of singing in the shower. He never did it in our apartment in college but, since my obnoxiously large bathroom was done up in mostly marble and tile, it had better acoustics. He took advantage of that.

A lot.

While I wish he didn’t since his singing was cringe-worthy, he belted out tune after tune anyway. Not once had I told him to stop—though I’d been tempted many times—because if he was singing Britney Spears or Justin Timberlake’s greatest hits I figured he was happy.

At least I hoped he was and he wasn’t simply putting on a happy face. He was still taking his anti-depressants—and might for the rest of his life—but at least now that his benefits had kicked in at work, he was going to therapy once a week.

What was said between him and his therapist was one thing we did not discuss and I didn’t ask. His therapy sessions were his and his alone and if he felt the need to tell me what was covered in them, I’d listen but other than that, it wasn’t my business.

I had done some legwork into buying Burgh Media Group in hopes to add it to my ever-expanding portfolio. Besides the fact I was looking for ways to diversify my investments, I figured if I bought it, Tate could skip being a news anchor and I could appoint him as head of the whole organization. I had no doubt he had the skills to run it successfully since he was a veteran in the business.

When I casually mentioned it to him one night over my favorite Korean take-out, he stared at me with his mouth hanging wide open. Then he flat out told me no. He wanted to earn his way into a better position and didn’t want me using my money to buy it for him.

I reluctantly nixed that idea, thinking I could address it again down the road. I also toyed around with starting a multi-media group of my own. Pak Media Group, Inc.