More Than Okay (2 page)

“Let’s go to bed then.”
 

Now that I liked the sound of. I took the water with me into his bedroom, where he instantly started to unbutton his shirt. I watched in fascination as his chest, wide and flat and smattered with hair, was revealed. Next came his broad shoulders, then his arms, one of which was covered in a tattoo sleeve. His stomach, also flat and with a treasure trail leading straight down into the low-hanging jeans.
 

“Alcohol’s catching up to you, love. Water will hopefully make you less hung-over tomorrow, but sleep help as well.”
 

He only wanted to sleep? I was taken aback by that, but I’d least I’d get to sleep in his bed. He had a guest room, he could’ve told me to go sleep there if he hadn’t wanted me in his bed. So I shimmied out of my dress, leaving my bra and panties on, even if the latter was wet from our previous encounter. I slid into one side of the bed and watched as he pulled his jeans off. He was left standing there in only his tight-fitting boxers, which outlined his flaccid cock.
 

He went to shut the bedroom door, then he slid in next to me. In fact, he slid over to me and wrapped his arm around my waist.
 

I turned onto my side, so he could press up against my back. The hair on his chest and his legs tickled me slightly for a moment as we settled in together. His cock was nestled against my bum and it was hardening up by the second. Oh yeah, he
so
wanted me. I reached behind me to run my hand over his underwear, feeling his cock up.
 

“Christina,” he groaned against my neck. “Weren’t we suppose to sleep?”
 

“Sleep can wait.” I wanted him so badly. I’d had him once, but that hadn’t been enough. That had been in the toilet of a club, with people on the other side of the door knowing exactly what had been going on. We were in a bed now, his bed, and I wanted him fully.
 

I reached my hand up further between us, until it was at a severely awkward angle. I did manage to open my bra though, which had been my goal. He didn’t let me go, but I did manage to get rid of it. I threw it away, not caring where it landed as I turned onto my back. His face was so close to me now and I pulled my wet panties down as well, kicking them off my legs once they reached my ankles.
 

“Jo,” I moaned, leaning in to kiss him.
 

His fingers ran over my stomach, all feather-light, then down to my fanny. He pushed two fingers inside. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough.
 

“You,” I muttered against his lips. “I want you inside me. I’m all loose from before, it’s not like you’re going to hurt me.”
 

He chuckled, but did as I demanded. His boxers were gone in an instant and he was lying down in-between my thighs. I hiked my legs further up to hook them over his waist. His cock slid right into me, rubbing right up against the g-spot.
 

He hooked his arms under my shoulders and I wrapped mine around his. We were both naked now and lying down, so different from earlier. Earlier had been quick and rough and just needing to get off, while this … this was slower, more intimate, though we were both still working towards getting off.
 

I was moaning louder now than I had in that toilet, because here no one was around to hear us. His thrust was so deep and so accurate, and I knew I was already close to coming again. Alcohol always made me come faster than I would normally do, but I also knew it was because of him. Because I finally had
him
. How many years hadn’t I dreamed of this?
 

“Oh, Jo, yeah, right there.”
Yes, yes, yes
. I was coming with a loud moan. My back arched off the bed, pressing my breasts against his chest.
 

His hands grabbed at me, sliding over my skin, which was slick with sweat. He was too though, so we were on the same page. His thrust stuttered to a halt, then started up again for a couple of short, jabbing thrust in which he came inside me for the second time that night.
 

He collapsed at my side and I curled up against him. I really should go to the toilet, to reduce the risk of a UTI, since those were not fun to deal with, but this was too good to pass up. His arm curled around me.
 

“Should we talk about this?” I didn’t want to break the good, post-orgasmic bliss I was in, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking it either.
 

“Let’s go to sleep. It’s been a long night. I’m tired. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”
 

I nodded and buried down against him. I slid my leg over his thighs, tangling our legs. Lying there, completely sated and happy, enjoying the feeling of Jo’s big, strong body next to me, I fell asleep.
 

I was in a pair of his joggers and t-shirt the next morning, curled up on his couch and eating Cheerios when he finally came shuffling out of the bedroom. “You like to sleep in long?” I teased, as I took in his broad, toned backside. The muscles moved as he put on water to heat and spooned some coffee powder into a cup.
 

“I’m used to working nights, so I sleep in in the morning.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, but he stayed at the counter until the water was heated up. Then he filled himself a cup and came over to drop down next to me.
 

I took another spoon of Cheerios as he sipped his coffee. Borrowing his clothes wasn’t what made me feel awkward. I’d done that before. What was awkward was that I would have to initiate a conversation. A conversation that was serious and one I didn’t know how would end. “Is this just a one-night thing?” It was better to jump with both feet in, I suppose.
 

“Depends on you.”
 

“On me? Why?” I put my hand on his forearm, rubbing his skin. He was still cradling his coffee cup between his palms, but he didn’t move away from my touch either, so I guess that was good.
 

“I want this to be more. But you’re the one pulling the shots here. If you want this to be a one-night thing, then that’s what it’ll be.”
 

“I
don’t
want that.” That was the last thing I wanted. “Do you have any idea how many years I’ve wanted you? Too many to count, Jo.”
 

“I doubt that.” He chuckled. “You
have
just turned twenty-one.”
 

“I have always wanted you,” I revealed. It was easy to say now, after we’d had sex twice the night before. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want him anymore, because recent actions spoke otherwise.
 

“Doesn’t it bother you that we’re related?” I could tell from the sudden serious note to his tone that it bothered him.
 

“It’s not like it’s illegal. We’re not doing anything wrong. We can even get married, if we should want to someday. That’s how legal it is. So no, it doesn’t bother me. It never has.” Maybe I was just very open minded, but that was the truth of the matter.
 

“You don’t come from the same family history as I do,” he muttered, bowing his head.
 

“What do you— oh!” It dawned on me before I was even finished asking the question. “Shit, Jo. I didn’t even think about that.” I put my bowl of Cheerios down on the table and turned so I could face him fully. “It’s bothered you then. This between us.”
 

“Of course. My own uncle abused my little brother for so many years. Jørgen can’t even stand to look at me.”
 

“Because he was the victim, while you weren’t?” I knew Jo a lot better than I knew Jørgen. Jørgen kept to himself, he hardly ever spoke to anyone in the family. I couldn’t really blame him either, after the childhood he’d had. Still, the fact that Jo came from that home too hadn’t actually been in my thoughts much, and now I was suddenly feeling really bad about that. “Jo?” I prodded when he didn’t answer me.
 

“You can’t tell anyone, Christina.”
 

“Can’t tell anyone what?” My worry was hitching up. “Were you a victim too, Jo?” I hadn’t been there during the trial, we’d been too young. Uncle Thomas hadn’t allowed it. Still, I think we all knew most of what had been going on in their home before it had been dragged to court.
 

“It’s years and years ago,” he whispered. “That son of a bitch had already set his eyes on Jørgen, but he was just too young. So I was the replacement for a while, until Jørgen grew up a bit. It’s not like— I mean, I do think about it, but it’s not like it’s hindering my life or anything. I feel so much worse about what happened to Jørgen. That’s what eating me up inside.”
 

I propped my elbow on the back of the couch and rested my cheek in my palm. “Can I ask you something without you taking offence?”
 

“Yeah.”
 

I swallowed. It was a question I’d asked myself before, but I had never dared ask him. I’d asked Dad once, before he’d killed himself, but he hadn’t answered me. “Why did you never tell anyone? Why did you wait until you were eighteen to go to the police?” Jo and I had always been close, yet at the same time we hadn’t, because we’d never really shared anything as personal as this with each other.
 

I hadn’t known about what had gone on in their home until Jo went to the police and all hell broke loose. Still, we’d always been in the same schools, and being relatives, we’d always talked together. We’d hung together during primary school, but grown apart once he’d started lower secondary school. We’d grown closer again when he’d started secondary, even though I’d still been in the lower secondary. Now here we were, suddenly talking about the subject I’d never dared go close to before.
 

“Because I was told from a very young age that if I ever mentioned anything to anyone, they’d kill him.” Jo sighed heavily. “It sounds so cliche, doesn’t it? But that’s what I was told. I was just a kid. Of course I believed it. As I grew older … I wasn’t sure if they meant it or not. They were both, my uncle and mum, crazy enough to actually hurt him like that. So I never dared. When he took matters into his own hands and tried to kill himself— I couldn’t watch it anymore. So I went to the police, because while he was in hospital, they couldn’t get to him.”
 

“Shit, Jo.” Of course I knew that he was the one to go to the police. I just hadn’t known the reason why.
 

His head turned towards me. “This got way to serious.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I have thought long and hard about my feelings for you, for years. I have to admit, I was freaked at first, but I’m used to it now. You are everything I want, and no matter what, no one else can measure up.”
 

That earned him a kiss. A long, tender kiss. “It always has been the two of us, hasn’t it? I’ve always felt this way for you. It’s never gone away, no matter how much I’ve tried to make it.” I’d been having sex since I was sixteen. Not because that was the time I was legally allowed to have sex, but because that was when my hero-worship of Jo had gone away and I’d met someone who was actually interested in me. Turned out we weren’t a good match, but at least we’d taken each other virginities and gained some experience out of it all. It had been nice, even if it hadn’t been metaphorically earth-shattering.
 

He sighed again. “Yeah.” I knew he’d been with women too. Many of them. It had used to bother me, but right now, being here with him, it didn’t. I was the one who had him now, and apparently I’d always had him. We’d just never admitted our feeling to each other

“Should it be this easy?” I asked then. “Working through our feelings. I mean, being cousins and all, one would think it would be a lot harder to accept. I guess I’ve had years of accepting it though, considering how long I’ve been in love with you.”
 

“Years, yeah,” he echoed. “Lots of them.”
 

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “And many more to come.” Hopefully, anyway.
 

Jo put his head back against the back of the couch. His eyes, a pale blue, flicked over to me. “Let’s hope so, yeah.” It was like he’d read my mind.
 

I leaned in to kiss him again. I couldn’t help myself. I was finally allowed to and I wasn’t going to keep myself back now. “I love you so much, Jo. Have for such a long time.”
 

“Me too. For you.”
 

I took notice of the fact that he didn’t say the big words back to me, but what he had said was enough. In my family those words had been used a lot, while in his … probably not at all. I could live with not hearing the words, for now, especially as he’d finally revealed some of the hell he had been through in his childhood.
 

I was happy just finally being able to be close to him. It was what I’d wanted since I was about thirteen, after all, since that was when I’d started noticing boys. Him, in particular.
 

“I need a shower,” I said once we pulled apart. I rose to put my plate in the sink, then I headed towards the bathroom. I threw a look at him over my shoulder. His eyes were trained on my bum. “Feel free to join me,” I offered.
 

I saw the grin spread on his lips and I knew he would. I also knew I wouldn’t exactly get to wash myself clean—but that was more than okay.
 

T.T. has been writing stories for as long as she’s been able to write. She’s immersed in the world of m/m romance, but she
 
also writes all-male menages, lesbians, and even a few m/f short stories in already established series.
 

T.T. is a Norwegian born and bred, and contrary to popular opinion there are no polar bears wandering the streets of Norway. She has in fact never even seen a polar bear, though she wants to.
 

You can find T.T. on her website, http://www.ttkove.com, but also on Facebook and Goodreads. You can also contact her at [email protected].