Let Love In

ONE

JACOB JAKE OAKLEY

So, this was how I would die. A heart attack at age forty. Was a heart attack caused by your heart beating too fast? Or from stopping completely? Because mine was doing an odd combination of both.

I stood at the door—a door I instantly regretted softly tapping on and gently pushing open without an invitation—and watched as Keegan danced. I’d come to ask the younger man—the much younger man, as in almost two decades younger—if he wanted dinner.

I thought maybe he needed a break from homework. I thought maybe he needed a friend. What I hadn’t thought was that I’d find Keegan, dancing in my spare room, in only silky blue panties trimmed with lace.

I must have gasped at what I saw because Keegan whipped around with a shocked look on his face.

God damn, man. Stop looking at him. But I couldn’t look away from his pale, creamy skin. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but his chest, abs, and arms had definition. Keegan had a long, lithe body and it had been moving perfectly as he danced. His ass cupped in the silky panties as he moved had almost been too much. But the bulge in the front nearly brought me to my knees.

With a mumbled apology, I backed away from the door and escaped the room with only a slight stumble. Since when had a nearly naked man, even one in silk panties, nearly done me in?

I retreated to the kitchen and took a deep breath. Homemade pizzas were on stone slabs in the oven and I popped open a locally brewed cider to drink while I chopped up a salad. I needed to regroup and figure out a few things.

First, what the hell had I just seen Keegan doing?

Duh, dumbass. Pretty sure it looked like he was dancing in his room in silk and lace panties.

I rolled my eyes and swigged the cider.

I hadn’t known Keegan long. Correction, I’d known of him for quite a while. But I’d only met him in person within the last two days. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let my scattered thoughts piece themselves together.

Keegan was the son of my best friend.

My best friend, Gary Doc Wilson hadn’t known about Keegan until a few years ago. Doc—who looked exactly like the character from Back to the Future, hence the nickname—had always been flighty, free-spirited, and extremely ungrounded. He’d take off to the ends of the earth on the slightest of whims. To say he wasn’t the most stable of parents was possibly the biggest understatement of the year.

So, when Keegan’s mom passed away, Doc was thrilled to learn of his son. But within a few months of getting to know Keegan, Doc got that itch and started taking off on wild journeys while leaving his teen son with Doc’s sister or a housekeeper.

A few years later, with twenty-two-year-old Keegan within a year of finishing his online degree in trauma informed care, Doc opted to sell his house and move to some remote island halfway across the world.

So, you’re just leaving your son on his own? I’d asked my best friend of over three decades. I’d never been married, didn’t have kids, but even I could see that maybe this wasn’t the most parent-like thing to do.

Doc had waved me off. Keeg can come with me. I’d love it. If not, he can live with my sister.

I’d frowned. Your sister now lives in one of the most crowded cities in the country. I knew from what Doc had told me that Keegan didn’t do well in crowds and did best in peaceful, calm situations. "You’re asking him to leave his home or move somewhere he’d likely be extremely uncomfortable. He’s going to school, how’s he going to support himself?"

Doc had grinned broadly, but I knew his mind was already on his future adventure. My father left Keegan a large sum of money. Once he graduates, the money is his. He’s taking courses online, he can do that from anywhere.

Neither of those choices seem to be best for Keegan based on what you’ve told me of him. I was used to always trying to bring Doc down and make him think things through.

Doc had gotten a wild look in his eyes. Jake, my man, you’re so damn right. What was I thinking. You’ve got that big ol’ house out in the middle of nowhere. Keegan could stay with you. You’re my very best friend, no one I’d trust my son with more than you.

Even as a grown man, I had a hard time saying no to Doc. Would it be a hardship to let the kid—who Doc described as shy and quiet—stay in one of my spare rooms? I could let him finish his degree, get his feet under him, and inherit the money his grandfather left for him before pushing him out into the big, bad world.

Only if Keegan knows he has other options, I don’t want him thinking he’s being forced to live here, I’d agreed. Although, between the three options, I had a feeling staying with me was likely the only one that wouldn’t scare the living daylights out of the kid.

So, two days ago, Keegan had driven his vintage VW Bug—a gift from Doc before he left—up the long, winding lane to my house. The greetings had been awkward, but Keegan had been polite and appreciative.

The first two days and nights he’d been there had been strange. He’d stayed in his room, snuck to the kitchen only when he didn’t think I was around, and never ventured to any other parts of the house.

And now I’d walked in on him during what was clearly a private time.

Dumbass. Barging into his room is probably the worst way in the world to make him feel welcome and comfortable.

I huffed and drained the rest of my cider. So, Keegan liked to dance and wear silk and lace. Okay. I could deal.

But I had to get a handle on things.

Keegan and I needed to sit down and get some ground rules set.

I wanted the kid to know he was welcome and safe in my home. I didn’t want the next year or so to consist of him hiding in his room.

Why not? You hide in your studio most of the time.

Rolling my eyes—again—I popped open a second cider and tossed the veggies into the salad I’d just chopped. I had no doubt that Keegan definitely wouldn’t be joining me for dinner, so I packaged up some of the pizza slices and put them in the front of the fridge so he’d be sure to find the leftovers when he ventured out late at night.

Okay, I’d give both of us some time to get over the embarrassment of me walking in on him. Then we’d sit down and build some house rules. Hopefully, after a bit of time, Keegan would feel comfortable being around me and not just stuck in his room.

After I’d finished my salad, pizza, and cider, I went to my studio and set to work on my newest carving. I worked for the local college writing curriculums and teaching online classes, but I also made hand-carved wood pieces and sold them online.

Money had never been a huge issue for me—thanks to my parents leaving me every cent they had—but I made decent money at the college and I made more than I ever thought I would make with my carvings.

I wasn’t sure when I’d stopped enjoying being in crowds and out in public. But I definitely preferred to stay home and only be around one or two people at a time. Online curriculum writing and teaching was perfect for me. I only had to go into the college from time-to-time and wood carving kept me calm and sane.

An hour or so later, I put down the piece and stretched. I was done for the evening, but the earlier incident with Keegan was still weighing heavily on my mind. After getting a drink in the kitchen, I stood in the hallway for several moments. I could go to my room and face Keegan the next day. Or I could go set things straight before bed.

I knew I wouldn’t sleep if I was worrying about Keegan.

I padded toward his door and knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again. Keegan?

A shuffling sounded behind the door and then a muffled voice came through. Yeah?

Hey, could we talk?

Silence.

Um, could we do it another time? I’m kinda tired right now, Keegan’s soft voice answered.

I frowned. Okay, but I want us to talk and make sure we’re on the same page.

More silence. Then, Yeah, okay. Later.

I sighed and walked to my room.

I knew I wouldn’t sleep peacefully that night.

Whether it was because I worried Keegan didn’t feel welcome and comfortable or because I couldn’t get the sight of Keegan dancing out of my head, I didn’t know. Probably a combination of the two.

But I definitely dreamt of blue silk and lace panties.

TWO

KEEGAN GREER

I groaned and flopped onto my bed.

Okay, it wasn’t really my bed. It was Jacob’s bed in Jacob’s house.

Part of me wanted to march my sexy silk and lace clad ass out of the room, find my host, and tell him he deserved the eye-full he got since he barged in on me. Tell him I’m gay, sassy, and proud and I take no shit from anyone about who I am.

The other part of me realized two things rather quickly. First, that was my personality online and in my head. In person? I became a meek and mild, scared of crowds, will do whatever it takes to avoid confrontation, please don’t speak to me, coward. No sass, no snark, no standing up and being proud.

Online Keegan was a badass.

Real-life Keegan was a limp noodle.

Second, even if I had the balls to tell Jacob he could just accept me as I am—silk and lace and fabulous gay self—the man was doing me a huge favor by letting me stay. I needed this room, this remote location, this time to finish my schooling. If that meant apologizing to Jacob for what he saw and promising he’d never see that part of me again, I’d do it.

As in, I’d grovel and make promises.

I wouldn’t actually give up who I was. I’d just make sure the door was always locked and that I kept myself in check around Jacob.

I’d been a fairly timid child, given to flights of fancy and drama. The fancy and drama had only increased as I got older, much to the dismay of my mother. Too girly. Too prissy. Too dramatic. Mom always indicated I was too fragile, that I needed to buck up. She hated the colorful me, the makeup-wearing me, the silk and lace me. Needless to say, Mom and I had a tumultuous relationship. She provided me with a place to stay and food, but that was the extent.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Mom had a ton of her own issues. But she spent so much time focusing on all of what she thought was wrong with me, she never had time to get help for herself. So, when I found her overdosed in the bathtub, I wasn’t even surprised. Shaken, haunted, traumatized? Yes. But to be honest, I was likely all of those things because of my mom. Her death just added to my pile of issues.

After Mom’s death was when my fear of crowds and going out in public got the worst. I was nearly eighteen, had just graduated from high school, and needed someplace to stay at least until I could legally rent an apartment. Of course, what I would do for a job was a mystery. Without much choice, I contacted the one person Mom had never wanted me to have contact with. Gary Doc Wilson. My father.

Upon explaining to the man who I was—and honestly, who takes a stranger at their word and accepts them as their son with open arms—Doc had taken me in without hesitation. And yes, he insisted I called him Doc. Said he didn’t know a Gary. He drove from Florida and picked me up in Indiana. Said I could stay with him as long as I wanted. Staying with Doc meant whatever shack he could find to rent wherever he decided to point his car for about six months. Then he decided that we needed a real house. We settled with Doc’s father, my grandfather Cyrus, in central Indiana. Cyrus was a crotchety old man, but he liked me. When he died not long after we moved in, Cyrus left the house to Doc and a large amount of money to me. Which I could have after college.

I set to work earning an online degree in trauma informed care—what better way to help myself and others than by understanding how trauma affects our brains? All was going great. Doc did a lot of ordering in when he was around—but he traveled a lot. At first, he spent a ton of time with me, but then he got antsy and started taking little trips. He’d have his sister stop in and check on me or make sure the housekeeper came around to keep an eye on me. When Doc wasn’t around, I’d order delivery. Sometimes of meals, sometimes of groceries so I could cook for myself.

The few times I needed to go out, I had to psych myself up for it. Always turned out to not be as bad as I’d anticipated. Honestly, the anxiety and anticipation were the worst. But I preferred to stay in as much as possible.

That didn’t mean I didn’t love outdoors. I did. Loved sitting in the sun, soft breeze on my face. I’d take walks as I could, but I got nervous about seeing people and having to make eye contact or even give a small smile. So, I got most of my exercise by dancing. I wasn’t a professional, I wouldn’t be winning any awards, but I loved it. Add in my silk and lace panties and I was a happy camper.

I’d known I liked guys from a very young age. Despite my mom being very against me, I pretty much just shrugged her off and went about being me. I was accepted at school, but I started online home learning after sixth grade, so I likely missed out on prime bullying years.

Silk and lace had always been textures I loved to have against my skin. I used to secretly purchase ladies’ underwear to wear in private until I realized I could buy men’s underwear in silk and lace. The cut was much better and allowed for more room up front.

Silk, lace, panties, makeup, dancing, and school all brought me happiness. Oh, and my webcam show made me happy, too. But I’d just recently started that and I wasn’t completely sure it would last.

For the time being, donning a mask, pulling on silky panties, and dancing for the camera was all kinds of fun. People paid to watch. They paid more to make requests. And eventually, they’d pay a higher fee if they wanted a private show.

I’d taken a short hiatus from the webcam show when Doc decided to sell Cyrus’s place and go on some journey around the world. I liked Doc. He was a good person. Very intelligent and he treated me better than my mom ever had. Doc accepted me—well, sometimes I thought his head was so far in