The Breaking Point: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance Page 11

  By the time they circle out of the alley to the front of the building, Vinny hates his bowling ball for both its weight and its uselessness. What’s he going to do, pack this damn thing in a suitcase and take it back to Lance? Fuck this bowling ball, he wants to return it. He throws another good strike with the ball and it rolls towards the glass front door of the place so purposefully that it cracks the glass when it hits. Vinny doesn’t look at Frankie, but he knows the guy is trying to figure out how to play this scene, laughter or silence? He decides to join in. Frankie throws his ball, tossing it underhand, and puts it right through the door this time, shattering the glass, and once they make that much noise, both guys take off running. Vinny heads towards a different alley, one that will lead to a street that takes them back where they came from. He stops to catch his breath in the skinny space between buildings. Frankie joins him, but is experiencing some kind of high from either running or destruction, that makes him run into Vinny’s arms and give him a big kiss on the cheek.

  “I love this!” he says. “I feel so alive, like I never want to go to bed again.”

  “We can keep it going,” Vinny says, standing very still. He won’t make any moves on Frankie, but he won’t move away from him either, Frankie’s too great a guy to really reject or turn down. “Where do you want to go to celebrate?”

  Frankie checks his watch and says, “Last call is soon. I know a place, we can pick up some chicks before the doors close. I bet you’re good with girls, too, you bastard, let’s go!”

  “I’m great with girls, women too,” Vinny says, not lying. He could have half the ladies that men his age usually want, if they’re ladies’ men, and if they’re available. “But I have…someone already.” Not a lady and not a lie, that’s all Vinny wants to say about it tonight.

  “I love you even more for that, the best wing man is the guy who’s better looking than me but taken, you draw ’em in but never catch ’em, you’re just the best friend a guy can have.”

  “Like a dog,” Vinny says. “Man’s best friend.” That makes Frankie giggle, not laugh, but giggle, like the grown-up boy he’ll always be.

  “You’re really funny, Vinny, you know that?”

  Vinny knows that. He learned it from the funniest guy he’s ever met.

  12. MIA

  Once the baby’s a couple of weeks old, Lance decides to take the little tyke on vacation, to see his other dad, as a surprise. It’s not going to be a surprise for the baby, Lance has told the baby all about it, with funny faces and acting it all out and everything, but a pretty big surprise for Vinny because he doesn’t know it’s coming. They’ve texted back and forth intermittently in the three weeks since the kid popped out (it was like a seven hour popping experience, but it all went as well as it could have), and yet Vinny’s never once thought to ask how Lance is doing, if anything’s happening with the baby, nothing. He tells Lance about himself and his exploits with Frankie, just as Lance details the exploits of his parents and his hobbies, but Lance is running a bit of a test with Vinny: when will he think about the kid? So far he hasn’t. So now that Lance is energized enough to travel, he’d like to go point that out himself, in person.

  Ma and Pa Hershkowitz kiss the hell out of the baby at the airport. The story on the birth certificate is that the baby is Lance’s little brother (because it’s a boy, first son of a third son), a late-in-life unexpected pregnancy by his mother, that her older baby came home to help out with, and now will take a ridiculously active role in parenting. The kid has a nice cowlick going with his one tuft of mouse-brown hair, so that’s all Hershkowitz right there, but he’s got Vinny eyes for sure. Dour, serious eyes. That’s why Lance tries to amuse the little fella so much, he wants to see him happy.

  Ma and Pa aren’t the only ones who think the baby is adorable, women, and especially women who are mothers, compliment him on such a cute baby all through the trip. One woman a few seats in front of him even feels the need to swear about it. “That kid is so goddamn cute,” she says gravely. This woman looks like she happens to be a grandmother, like she’s seen some serious action when it comes to kids, and she knows what she know, dammit—the kid is adorable.

  Lance lands in Miami International Airport, MIA for short, and finds it particularly fitting, since he’s here looking for a guy who’s Missing In Action from his kid’s life right now. Lance gets lunch with the tyke (bottle for the baby, that’s the bulk of what he’s packed, baby supplies) and double-checks that he knows Vinny’s address and how to get there, and hopes that if Vinny’s out he’ll be able to break into the place. He can’t tell if he wants Vinny to be there or not, so he has time to scope out his life down here. Lance doesn’t wish it either way, just leaves it up to fate.

  It turns out that Vinny’s out, probably on set, and he’s in such a cheap little place that Lance can get in just by jimmying the door with a bit of scrap metal from the side of the road, looks like a bit of torn down building material, like this whole long stay motel will be someday too. He gets inside and finds that Vinny has reverted to pure bachelor mode: he’s not cooking, he’s not cleaning, he does seem to be sleeping because the bed’s a wreck. Lance puts the baby to bed on his pillow after tucking that pillow into an arm chair and bordering it with a blanket in case the kid gets the super-human ability to barrel roll at such a young age and goes for the floor. Then Lance starts to clean up. He lives here now too, unless Vinny kicks him out. Vinny won’t kick him out, right? Probably right, but he doesn’t really feel like he knows that for sure. Maybe it’s the postpartum blues? Maybe this is just one of the weirder moments in an already exceedingly weird life, and it can’t feel normal because it’s not and never will be. Lance shrugs and gets to work.

  He’s trying to make something to eat out of the frozen half loaf of bread in Vinny’s freezer (no toaster though, that’s the real mystery: does he un-thaw it in the over or just leave it on the window sill and let the sun do it or what?) and the canned ravioli he has on the counter when Vinny arrives back home. He’s not alone by the sounds of chatter on the landing outside the door. Lance did not consider that possibility, a witness to this confrontation. This is going to make a very nasty surprise for Vinny.

  Vinny walks in with ol’ blue eyes behind him, with some hipster retro hat on his head and a smile a mile wide. Lance knows who that is, wonderful Frankie, best buddy Frankie. Lance sits on the end of the arm chair with the baby in it to make sure no one sits down and flattens the little fella without looking. The kid’s starting to squirm and wake up due to the noise. That’s when Vinny spots them both.

  He’s dumbstruck, but he maintains it well; Vinny never loses his cool. No matter how scared or surprised he gets, he always acts like whatever’s happened was inevitable, anybody could have seen it coming, makes sense to him. It’s Frankie who speaks first.

  “You’re the funny guy, Vinny’s partner, right?” Frankie says, coming up just as chipper and oblivious to discomfort as a puppy (even the baby can tell something doesn’t feel right, but Frankie’s only assuming the best).

  “Hiya, partner,” Vinny says as Frankie shakes Lance’s hand. Lance nods at him. They’re acting like one guys owes the other one money right now, it sucks.

  “And who’s this little guy? Or is it a girl? Who’s the baby?” Frankie asks everything.

  “He’s a boy, he’s my brand new little brother, really surprised my mother, that’s why I’ve got him, she’s recovering.” Lance memorized his lie as well as he would for any bit, and delivers it seamlessly. “His name is Paul.”

  That puts a crack in Vinny’s façade. For a moment he looks like he’s going to cry, and then like he wants to punch himself in the face for almost crying like a wuss, and then he looks at Lance like he wants to swear, just like when they first met, like that lady on the plane. That’s pretty goddamn fitting, he might say if Frankie weren’t in the room. Like it’s such a perfect way to tell the truth in plain sight he could almost punch that name in the face too, for being too
perfect.

  “Like the Apostle?” Frankie asks.

  “Sure,” Lance says. He’s pretty sure all the early Christians were Jews first, that works for this kid, why not? It’s not like he nor Vinny is about to tell the real truth about who the baby was named after, so any story’s good enough.

  “You should come out with us, we’re going to get dinner at this garbage bar we like, or maybe you can’t because there’s a baby, or maybe you can bring the baby. Vinny, would you take a baby to the Seaside Speakeasy?”

  There’s a question for you: what would Vinny do if this baby was his responsibility? Lance almost smirks watching Vinny try to answer that question, which he ultimately doesn’t. Instead he says, “Hey Frankie, can you give us a second? I’ve gotta talk to Lance about something, we’ll be right behind you if you want to go and order us some drinks.”

  Frankie agrees and leaves the room like everything’s fine. That is still yet to be determined for Vinny and Lance.

  “Can you drink? Women can’t drink if they’re breastfeeding.”

  “Do you see any breasts? Of course I can drink.” Vinny shrugs like, how’s he supposed to know this stuff? Well how should Lance know any of it either except through common sense and educated guesses? Whatever. “You’re right about Frankie, he’s a doll.”

  Vinny sighs and finally moves out of the position he froze in when he spotted Lance. He comes over to their wiggling baby and picks it up, then sits down in the chair to hold the fella. He’s doing all that right, not flopping the head around or anything. He’s held a baby or two before, just never his own.

  “Frankie’s into girls, just about all the girls; you don’t have to worry about how much I like him.”

  “That’s nice to know he probably won’t be sleeping with you, but I still get to worry. You talk about him like he’s your best buddy little brother. Isn’t that how you used to feel about me?”

  “You’re more than that now, Lance,” Vinny says, keeping the baby happy and cooing just with the reassuring strength of his hands, his arms. That baby feels safe as hell over there. Lucky Paulie.

  “Did you miss me?” Lance asks.

  Vinny looks at him with a warning face, he won’t even answer that kind of question.

  “Will you kiss me?” Lance asks this time.

  Vinny grabs Lance by the front of his shirt, twists it in a fist, and pulls him down. He kisses Lance so hard Lance feels giggly and weak, like a disturbed bowl of Jello. They can’t do much about that with the baby awake and alive and between them, nor can they do much about it with Frankie waiting for them down at this cruddy bar that’s their favorite, but they’ll have to do something about it eventually, as soon as possible. Maybe even in the bathroom at whatever sea shanty they’re about to go to, just pretend they both have to pee at the same time and tell Frankie to make sure the baby doesn’t get loose. Lance is already daydreaming about it, he’s that hard-up for some action.

  But the bathroom at this bar is too gross and too sad for such a reunion, and at last Lance has a reason to celebrate and drink while Vinny wants to be somewhat sober. Lance and Frankie do get along smashingly (Frankie probably gets along with anyone who wants to like him, he’s not making any enemies himself), and they all part when the baby starts to get really upset that it’s still in a loud bar when the little fella just wants to sleep. Frankie seems a little confused that Vinny won’t stay out with him longer—the kid’s not his little brother, right, why can’t he stay out and play? Vinny just tells Frankie that he and Lance have more talking to do, “It’s business.” That delights Frankie a bit, apparently because he has a huge fetish for mob-sounding talk of any sort. What a goofball that guy is. Lance likes him too, but not as much as Vinny and Frankie like each other, that’s for sure.

  They get back to Vinny’s place and secure the baby better for sleep, changing his diaper and wiping him down with a wetnap and putting on a clean onesie, then tucking baby into a cardboard box on the chair next to the bed. It’s not exactly fancy, but safe enough for Junior to catch some winks. Lance sits down on the bed next to the chair and gives tiny Paul a bottle while original Paulie (to Lance at least), reads up the instructions on the formula and mixes up a batch so it’ll be ready for baby’s breakfast. When they’re both done with these chores and the kid is zonked, Vinny joins Lance on the bed, sits so close he’s practically in Lance’s lap, and starts kissing and nibbling at his ear.

  It feels great. Lance is so turned on and deprived after all this wholesome time cooped up with his family he feels like he could jizz his pants just from this, just a little kissing, but he has a few last things to say before they’re back on friendly terms.

  “Hey,” Lance says, touching Vinny’s face, not pushing him away, but not letting him any closer either. “You forgot about me, about us, for a little while there, didn’t you? You know if I hadn’t come to find you, you may never have come to me, do you know that?”

  “I know it,” Vinny whispers. They aren’t looking at each other, but they’re telling the truth. “It’s easy for me to be alone, and I wasn’t even that alone, I had a new best friend the second I arrived.”

  “That’s scary that you can just wander off like that,” Lance says. “Don’t fucking do it again, for me or for Paulie here, especially. I can come after you and you’ll thank me for that, you chump, but kids shouldn’t have to chase their parents. You know why better than I do.”

  “You’re right, baby.”

  Lance nods. There’s one more thing. He reaches down into the baby bag and pulls out something from the side, a condom. He holds it up so Vinny can see it, and Vinny sighs.

  “They’re no fun,” Lance says. “I know it, but we’ve got to be smart about this, pally. Unless you want fifteen of these little guys, and I know I personally don’t since I’m the one who’s going to be doing all the heavy lifting, we’ve got to think about how to control this. Maybe you want to get snipped, you know I can’t go talk to a doctor about the pill or anything, or maybe you want to pull out, but I know you don’t really, I don’t want you to either, and a condom feels artificial to me, but I don’t know what’s going on in here, if something’s ovulating or what, there’s no one to ask and no way to tell.”

  “I’ll pull out,” Vinny says. “I want a big family someday so I don’t know about getting snipped too soon, what about you?”

  “Let’s put a limit on it, let’s say three’s the limit.”

  “Four?” Vinny asks. “Please, baby?”

  Lance nearly melts to hear Vinny say please, fine, four, that’s great, that’s a long time from now anyway hopefully, if this whole pull-out thing works, they’ll just have to find out the hard way. Lance turns to kiss Vinny, dropping the condom to the floor and burying it in an avalanche of their clothes. The sounds of kissing and sighing and whispering don’t seem to bother the baby, so they end up under the sheets of Vinny’s bed, their bed, naked and aching for each other. Vinny doesn’t have time for props today, it seems, but he does tell Lance to lie back on the pillows and sticks his fingers inside first.

  “Do you feel different?” he asks, going straight for the prostate but clearly collecting data on the surroundings.

  “I don’t know, you’re the one poking around down there, do I?” Vinny doesn’t answer.

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “My boner fucking hurts.”

  Vinny snorts and leans down his head to kiss and suck Lance, and Lance watches his lips go as he feels the movements of Vinny’s fingers inside of him. He’s already so close to the edge and they only just started. Pulling out may not have to be the biggest tragedy in the world, there are other ways to have fun, that’s for sure.

  Vinny mounts him after that. He says, “If anything hurts, say so, alright? Don’t let me hurt you,” before he plunges himself up Lance’s hole. What a thing to say! First of all, it always hurts a little to get good and fucked, Lance likes it like that just fine. It’s perverse but it works; it just wouldn’t
really be sex at all if it was like a nice pleasant meal or a good dump or something, just healthy body processing, like some light exercise and a shot of orgasmic endorphins, good job everybody! He likes that it hurts, that it’s dirty, it gives it that perverse oomph that makes Lance feels like he’s getting away with something dangerous, him and Vinny against the world, outlaws, wild and mean. But again, what a thing to say that Lance’s job to make sure Vinny doesn’t hurt him. The man doesn’t know his own strength, and maybe he never will; tough, lone, and made of stone—everywhere but deep inside, his soft heart guarded with walls. Lance will have to be careful forever with Vinny, to make sure for both their sakes that he doesn’t let Vinny hurt him, because it would tear them both up for the rest of their lives.

  Vinny kisses him a lot this time, and that’s not always his style; he practically sucks Lance’s tongue out of his head. With his legs around Vinny’s back, Lance takes it, every thrust, even after he moans because his orgasm has welled up of its own accord, Vinny keeps pounding, and Lance just loves to feel him so near at long last, not just next to him, but inside of him, stirring them together. He wonders if Vinny will really pull out, it’ll be such a wrench when they both just want to stay glued together like this, and Lance wonders if maybe it’s not so bad to just be a hausfrau type, forever, give up the stage if that’s how it’s going to be, leave it up to chance, but Vinny reaches a crescendo, and claps his hand over Lance’s lips so that they’ll stop kissing and pulls out just in time to yank himself, once, twice to completion. His seed joins Lance’s on his stomach, and Vinny sets his forehead down on Lance’s chest to look at it all, seems to consider it, and then moves down to start lapping it up.