Of Being Yours[another way 2] (20 page)

“Do you want to put a movie on?” he blurted.

“Yeah,” I said, relieved, and went to collect sodas from the fridge.

There wasn’t any popcorn in the cupboard, but I found a big bag of chips and split it down the side so we could snack. I folded my feet up underneath me on the sofa, and as we shuffled, getting comfortable, I found myself with his arm around my shoulder.

“Today was good,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Will hummed in what I recognized as deep, deep contentment. I felt rather than watched him turn his head to press his lips against my head and breathe in the smell of my hair. It was intimate in a way that I hadn’t felt intimacy from him in a long time.

“I like dating you,” he said, and I laughed.

“We never dated the first time round.”

“Do you ever wish we’d done things the normal way?”

“Nah.” I pulled back as I turned so I could see him properly. “Who knows if it would have worked out.”

When the movie ended, I untangled myself from his arms and offered a vague smile in apology as I left the room for a shower.

As the room filled with steam, I felt a growing sickness and unease in my belly. I knew where I wanted the evening to go, what I wanted for both of us now. We had been making these baby steps back toward where we used to be, and I loved the growing sense of not just normality but of rekindling the love that I had so foolishly taken for granted.

It took a lot of pacing back and forth in the bathroom, wearing boxers and a T-shirt and nothing else, to build up the courage to go to him. I had to make it soon or he’d go to the guest room again, and I really didn’t want that. In the end I forced myself to meet my own stern gaze in the mirror.

“Come on, Ross. You can do this.”

I took the stairs two at a time, and he clearly heard me—he was looking up as I skidded to a stop in the doorway.

Will frowned. “Everything okay?” he asked.

I nodded and whispered, “Come to bed.”

His brow furrowed further. “Huh?”

“Come to bed,” I said louder, clearer, and extended my hand to him.

“Are you sure?”

Oh hell yes, I was sure. I nodded and turned my hand palm up.

He flicked the TV off with the remote and stood, then slipped his hand in mine.

Neither of us was willing to make any assumptions as to where the night would lead us. When I shut the door behind him, Will drummed his fingers against his thighs as he waited for me. I wasn’t ready to make the first move; it wasn’t a position I was comfortable in. But he wasn’t going to do it for me.

When I stepped up close to him, those long fingers stopped their tapping and gently gripped my hips. He smiled softly as I held his shoulders and pressed my face to his neck. He still smelled the same right there, like Will and man and the stuff he used on his face and his shampoo.

And then his lips were on my neck, completing the circle. So, so carefully kissing up to my jaw, to the corner of my mouth, then softly over my lips.

My fingers stole into his hair.

“Are you sure?” he murmured again, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over my hip bones.

“I’m ready for this,” I said, my voice low but confident. “I want it. I want
you.
Please, Will….”

It was familiar but not, this falling into bed with him, stripping off what was left of our clothes. Was it really months since we had done this? His skin, just so hot next to mine. His hands, fitting wherever he put them on my body. They belonged there.

I wasn’t sure if I’d find him hard when I brushed my fingers lower over his stomach, but he was—smooth and hard and ready. I wanted him in my mouth, inside me any way I could get him. To be as close as we possibly could.

He made a little sound in the back of his throat as I curled my hand around him and stroked, gently at first, then firmer while his fingertips caressed my ass. I still needed the reassurance of his kisses, although not necessarily on my lips. They roamed to my ear, down my throat, settling featherlight on my nipples.

We found a place where we were both comfortable, sharing deep, knowing kisses and the feel of each other’s skin. I was in love all over again with the taste of him, his familiarity and warmth.

When he reached for the lube, I wanted to watch, nervous for a split second that he wanted me to top him. But no—he settled on his side and helped me spread my legs wide, one thrown over his hip. Will slowly circled my hole with one of his fingers, teasing and flickering while I forced his tongue to meet mine. He slipped his finger inside. Then another joined it.

I was so ready I convinced myself I could take it raw, bare, dry. I gasped into his mouth as his fingers curled up and a third danced at my rim.

“Do you want another?” he asked breathlessly. “Or the stretch?”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Both. You.”

His fingertips gently stroked my cheek. “Jesse. Baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay. Another finger.”

Will seemed pleased with that and stretched me over his three fingers until I was in serious danger of coming before he even got inside me. Then he moved between my legs.

Hesitated.

“Do I need….”

His eyes flickered to the nightstand where, once, a long time ago, we used to keep condoms.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. Unless you need to?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else.”

“Neither have I.”

It was a gut-wrenching conversation.

“I just want to keep us safe. I’m sorry if—”

“Don’t worry,” I said, cutting him off. “I get it. But no one has been anywhere near me except you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again and leaned in to kiss me.

Despite the fact that he’d annoyed me, I still wanted him. If there was anyone in the world who could bring reality crashing back down around me, it was Will. And he was only trying to protect me—in his misguided, clunky way.

From the accident to our time at home while we were both injured, to the time when Will was away and the weeks that he’d been back without us being intimate, it had been several months since we’d last had sex. The thought would have been almost inconceivable to both of us when we met, when I would sneak away from my girlfriend to have any part of him that he thought fit to give me.

Although he was careful and hyperaware of my body as he breached it, I could feel the simmer underneath that spoke of the desperation we both felt. In that, I could forgive the sharp edges of pain as I was once again filled by him, knowing that somewhere inside him, the man that craved my body still existed.

The rough sound of my breathing reached my ears, and I wondered why I was so desperate to be quiet. I let my throat release a long low moan as my hands scrabbled at his shoulders and biceps. Will soothed me with his lips and gentle kisses as we moved together, not elegant beasts but raw, rutting ones, desperate for our own release as much as bringing about each other’s.

When he bit at my bottom lip, I felt the edges of my control begin to crumble and sobbed my orgasm into the curve of his shoulder. He shuddered over me and I clung to him, holding him through it.

Afterward, his lips, his hands, his fingertips were whisper-light as they spread over my skin. I curled in on myself and Will curled himself around my spine, knowing all the places where we fit seamlessly together. He kissed over my shoulder to my ear, back down the column of my neck, and lingered over my pulse point. At the same time, he brushed my nipples with his fingers, then a flat palm ran down my ribs, knuckles tugged at the line of hair on my stomach.

He needed to stop. I was starting to feel seasick.

I took his hand in mine and stretched it around my body, pressed it to the skin above my heart and held it there. His lips stilled on my shoulder, and I felt his deep exhale.

In his arms, I slept.

Chapter 14

W
HEN
Will announced to Dr. Smith, “We made love last night,” I was annoyed.

What right did he have to share those kinds of details about our love life with our therapist? Then again, I had come to learn that when you have a therapist, especially one who knows everything about your BDSM relationship, nothing is sacred and nothing is secret.

Dr. Smith smiled. “You seem pleased about that.”

“I am,” Will said. “It feels like another hurdle that we’ve overcome.”

“Jesse?”

“I don’t like thinking that we have hurdles to overcome,” I said, aware that I was frowning. “We’re just…
us
… you know?”

“Why don’t you try and phrase that a little more eloquently?”

“Ugh!” I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face. “There are ups and downs in any relationship. We’ve just been through a bit of a rough patch, and we’re coming through the other side. Sex last night was just part of that process.”

“Just part of the process?” Will repeated.

“You know what I mean,” I said. “It’s not some big step or anything. We’ve had sex a hundred times before.”

Sometimes I wondered how Dr. Smith reacted to her other patients. If she always wore the same slightly perplexed expression. I wondered if she ever blinked or showed any measure of shock when someone described anal fisting or electrostimulation or cock and ball torture or coffee enemas. I doubted it somehow.

“Would you do something for me?” I said suddenly, leaning forward on my elbows.

“I’ll try,” she said.

“Tell me about us. Tell me what you see.”

Dr. Smith raised her eyebrows and sat back in her chair. Her eyes flickered to the notepad she kept on the little table to her side but rarely used any longer.

“You’re two very settled young men,” she said cautiously. “Considering you partake in a lifestyle that some would term deviant, you are both very at peace with your desires and how you go about bringing them to life. You both are also very settled with your sexuality.”

She tilted her head to the side, clearly getting into the flow of what she wanted to say.

“Jesse, you came here for Will.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“And you’ve never seen this as something you’re doing for yourself. Maybe if you look back now, you’ll be able to reevaluate the experience as something that has been good for you, as well as good for Will and your relationship as a whole.”

I smiled, then laughed and shook my head. “You really are very good at reading people,” I said.

“It’s my job.”

“Go on.”

“I think the biggest step you’ve made over the past few months is coming to realize that you are able to assert yourself as an independent person,” she said. “You don’t need a Dom or a boyfriend or even a parental figure in your life to be able to function. You are self-reliant now in a way I didn’t see you as self-reliant before.

“More generally speaking,” she continued, “you are an introvert, which surprised me when I made that assessment of you. You are a thinker and a practical man. You show none of the flamboyance that society associates with homosexuality. Instead you live a very normal, settled life.”

“You do read him very well,” Will said gently. Then he smirked. “Do me.”

Dr. Smith laughed. “You, William, are a whole other story.”

She glanced at the clock, then back to us. “I don’t normally do this, you know,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure how it’s productive toward what we’re trying to achieve here.”

“It’s like going to a palm reader,” I said. “Whether it’s true or not doesn’t really matter. It’s blatant narcissism.”

“Plus,” Will added, “you did Jesse, so it’s only fair that you do me too.” He smiled at me, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt a little flutter in my tummy.

“Okay,” she said and tilted her head to look at him. “I’m afraid that you show all the signs of a classic control freak.”

I burst out laughing. Will hit me on the arm.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Smith said, smiling. “It’s a vile exaggeration, but it does hold a modicum of truth. Your bravery is what holds you back from taking that desire for control too far. I suppose the way you have carved out your own career away from your father’s company is a good example of this.”