Coming Out with the Truth Ch. 05

I grumbled at him; it wasn't that bad. Hopefully he thought my eyes were just watering. John waited for me to get back on the couch and then bundled me up in the rugs.

"Are you too hot?" he asked. "Too cold?"

"No. I'm ok." I insisted.

"Right." He said, and began taking all the dishes away. "Do you want to read a book? Or just doze off? Is there anything on tv...?"

I shrugged, and he went to the shelves and found a dvd. He showed me which one it was with a wicked smile.

"This will give you something to think about. Other than being sick." He told me. It was the dvd we'd sort of watched that first Sunday. The one we really didn't watch at all.

"John." I said softly. "We... we need to talk."

John let his hand holding the dvd drop to his side. "I'm sorry." He said quickly.

I held my breath, waiting for more, surreptitiously trying to wipe my eyes.

"John..." I started. I felt weak and ridiculously teary. Maybe this wasn't the time to talk about it, but I needed to know.

"I was going to come over and make dinner, that night." He said, looking at the dvd. "I guess that's part of why I was so pissed off. But... I shouldn't have... assumed. Not when we..."

"What, John?" I asked. My voice sounded small in the silence. Please, I begged inwardly. We what?

John cleared his throat. "Anyway. Since I can't take you out to dinner, then... I guess I'll have to cook you something instead." He gestured wryly at his clothes and I found myself smiling, tears filling my eyes.

"You were...?"

John nodded, looking rueful.

I wiped my eyes again, looking away. Next thing I knew, John was on his knees next to the couch, wrapping his arms around me.

I hugged him tight. I'd have tried to breathe him in, but my nose wasn't working and I just leaked tears on him instead. I hated being sick. I always turned into a massive cry-baby.

"You ok?" John asked, rubbing my shoulders.

I nodded, pulling away. He leant forward and kissed my cheek.

"I'll make you something to eat." He said, getting up. "Any preferences?"

I shook my head and he smiled, tucked me back in, put the dvd on and retreated to the kitchen.

I'd never seen John cook on his own before, but I was so sick that it didn't even hit me until a few minutes later when he came back in. I thought he might be going to ask me something about cooking, but instead he set a steaming mug down on the table.

"Honey and lemon." He told me. My mouth watered in response.

"Thanks." I told him. John smiled, then bent over and kissed my forehead.

Dammit. I just wanted to be well enough that he could kiss me properly.

The honey and lemon tea was wonderfully sweet and sharp, hot enough that my body's thermostat freaked out and I got really hot again. I threw off all the blankets and kept staring at the tv. I wasn't really absorbing much of the show. Again. Never mind.

This time I wasn't dozing off or too sick to take anything in. I was thinking about seeing John at my door, all dressed up. God, if I hadn't been sick... I wondered where we'd have gone. What the evening would have been like. It would have been perfect.

I'd dozed off to unlikely fantasies of slow dancing with John (I suspected he wasn't a dancer) in some really ritzy restaurant (which didn't exist in a town like this), so I was only half aware that I was shivering until John started tucking me in again. Then I woke up with a start.

"Hey." He said gently.

"Hey babe." I said, smiling. My head was killing me.

"Have you taken any aspirin? Anything?"

"Mm. This morning."

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Mm." I wasn't sure. Although something did smell really good...

John headed for the kitchen, came back with two steaming bowls, a glass of water and some aspirin on a tray.

"Chicken noodle soup." He told me. I sat up and pulled the rugs closer.

"Really?" I asked. "People actually eat that?" He looked kind of surprised and crestfallen, and I belatedly realised how that had sounded. "I mean, I didn't know people actually made it." I went on, kicking myself and hoping he blamed my comment on being sick. "I've only ever seen it in the movies."

John chuckled and passed me a bowl, settled on the other half of the couch. "Here." He said. "It's not as good as Sarah's. Anyway."

"I didn't know you could cook." I told him. He raised his eyebrows.

"I cook." He said. "Not like you can. Not cakes or anything fancy. But I can cook. I've been living alone for the last ten years or so. You'd hope I could cook by now."

"Cool." I said. I sounded like an idiot.

And he'd been living alone for so long. It made my heart hurt; even though he wasn't giving off signs of being lonely, ten years was a long time.

I turned my attention to the soup. It smelt good. The first spoonful was even better. Salty and savoury and fabulous.

"Mmm!" I looked at John, nodding. He grinned at me over his bowl.

"See?" He said archly.

The soup did make me feel better. It made me sleepy too.

I took the aspirin and John told me to go and have a shower and took the bowls back to the kitchen. I took his advice. I didn't feel like moving, but I knew the hot water would make me feel better. At least for a little while.

When I came out, dressed in fresh pyjamas and a jumper, John was on my couch. He lay with one leg along the back of it and had the other foot on the floor, patted the space between his legs. I didn't need any more encouragement than that to curl up against him and settle against his chest. If he didn't care about getting his good shirt and pants all creased then neither did I. John pulled the blankets over us and kissed my cheek again.

I think I must have dozed off after that.

I had vague memories of strong arms and the staircase, slightly stronger ones of my freezing bed and John crawling in with me, wrapping himself around me until I stopped shivering.

In the morning I woke up alone. That wasn't unusual, and I was getting better at not freaking out about it.

But this time there were now-cool hot water bottles in bed with me. And these were not the sheets I'd woken up with yesterday...

The sheets and my old pyjamas were in the washing machine, ready to be hung out.

I couldn't be bothered so I left them there and went to make myself a coffee instead. And I sat at the table smiling like an idiot for far too long despite the throbbing of my head and painful throat.

I was so far in love with him it wasn't even funny anymore.

I called John at lunchtime.

"What are you doing?" he sounded surprised, indignant.

What? "Um, nothing..."

"I mean calling me!"

"Oh..." I swallowed and winced. I'd called him before and it was never a problem. And even if we hadn't done much of a good job of actually talking the last night, I'd thought things had been looking up...

"Keith, you're sick. You're supposed to be taking care of yourself, not chatting and making your throat worse!"

Oh. This was the thing with seeing John in secret. I never knew quite what was coming. "I haven't been chatting!" I objected. "And it's fine! I just wanted to call and say thanks..."

There was a short silence. "Alright." He sounded amused again and my heart melted. "I'll let you off the hook this time."

I smiled.

"Do you actually feel any better?" he asked idly.

"Mm, no." I peeked in the fridge and felt a rush of warmth at the containers of soup all neatly stacked on the shelf. "But I am well stocked with soup."

John chuckled. "I'll make you more tonight, if you want." He offered.

"That's ok." I said quietly. I knew he'd had a night out planned with some of his friends and colleagues. I'd made him write it on my calendar. Apparently they were being pretty insistent since he wasn't hanging out with them much anymore. "It's your night out, it's fine. I'm just going to sleep anyway."

"Keith... are you sure?" He asked very softly after a long silence.

"Yes." I said firmly, closing my eyes. "I'm sure. Go and have fun. You're free tomorrow night, though, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Really. I'm just going to be sleeping. And maybe I'll feel better tomorrow night."

"Ok." John said dubiously. "Well. I'll see you later then."

We hung up and I leant against the fridge.

Stupid boys nights.

Couldn't I have just told him I wanted him to come over? I smacked the phone against my forehead. I didn't want to be needy. I wanted to be strong and calm, but I wasn't, and being sick just amplified everything.

I wanted John.

The day was a waste. I hated being sick. I couldn't concentrate on reading, I couldn't write, didn't feel like cooking, couldn't sleep, so I ended up watching hours of mind numbing tv and trying unsuccessfully to sleep.

And then the doorbell rang.

I got up and shuffled over to it with a sigh.

"John, what-?"

He pushed past me into the house and shut the door behind him, put down a couple of bags of groceries on the floor.

"You didn't really think I was going to go out while you were here sick, did you?" He asked me with a dark look, reaching his arms around me.

"Um..." I blinked up at him and found my eyes suddenly filling with tears. John's stern expression evaporated and he pulled me against him, rubbing my shoulders.

I held him tight and buried my face against him. He could probably feel my tears soaking through his shirt.

"It's ok." He murmured, kissing the side of my head.

"Thank you." I whispered against his neck, feeling ridiculously grateful and suddenly very very small.

"Anytime." John murmured into my hair, and we stood there hugging until I started to shiver again.

At which point he carried me back to the couch, curled up with me in his arms and tucked me in.

And when I fell asleep, he carried me up to bed.

September 2009:

Keith:

"Got you something." John said, putting down a rather large box on the kitchen table.

I put down my cup slowly and blinked at him.

"Um. My birthday's not-" I began to remind him.

"I know." He said, looking very pleased with himself. "Just wanted to give this to you now."

I flipped the lid of the box open and then stared in surprise.

I looked at the typewriter in the box for a long moment.

It had been ages since we'd looked at the typewriter in the antique shop. I hadn't even mentioned it, even I if I still did want it... and John had gone back to get it for me?

"John... it's..."

"Not the one from the antique shop." John said with a smirk.

I gaped at it.

The initial rush of warmth I'd felt upon seeing it faded and I stared at it. I couldn't accept it. Not when it was a family heirloom and we were only together in secret.

"You like it?" John asked. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"It's beautiful." I said. "Thank you. I can't... thank you enough. But I can't. John. It's your family's."

But things were so perfect. And ok, so every now and again I had doubts, or something would make me uneasy... but then John always ended up doing something like this or saying something and I just fell in love with him even more.

John frowned at me. "None of them care about it. I'd rather you had it."

I looked at it again. I wavered. If he was giving me an heirloom... he was serious, wasn't he? He had to be... He was giving me something of his family, something of himself... I smiled at him.

"Hell, my grandma would prefer that you had it. Come on." John said smiling at me, a glint in his eye. "Let's see how it will look in your office."

How could I refuse? He took my hand and pulled me after him.

"Wait- don't we need to bring it with us, then?" I asked. By that time we were already at the office door.

John pushed me gently so I entered the room, blinked, then turned to face him with a dark look. John had the biggest grin on his face ever.

The green lamp was on my desk.

"When did you-"

"You were still sleeping." He said. "You obviously haven't done any work in your office today."

"Maybe I shouldn't have given you that key." I growled. John laughed.

"You like me making breakfast on Sundays too much." He teased, then his expression became more serious. "Keith." He said, raising his eyebrows. "Don't think about it too much. Just enjoy it, alright?"

What did that mean? It sounded awfully close to 'enjoy it while it lasts'...

But John was smiling at me, putting his arms around me... and this felt like forever.

Maybe I was reading too much into things. Maybe I did need to just relax and go with the flow and just let things happen however they would. Maybe I just needed to trust that everything would be ok. It certainly felt like it would be.

I smiled back at him and kissed his lips softly.

"Thank you." I said firmly.

"You're welcome." John said softly and kissed me back.

We held each other for a moment, and this time I was the one who pulled away.

"Wait here." I told him, and then ran back to the kitchen.

He was perched on the edge of my desk looking out over the garden when I came back, bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.

"Who's selling you alcohol?" he asked dryly. I'd brought it back from the city with me. Although maybe he hadn't noticed that there'd been wine at the barbecue, given his fast exit.

"Ha ha!" I faked a laugh, and then we both grinned at each other stupidly.

And suddenly things felt utterly normal again.

We drank wine leaning against my desk. At the end of only one glass I was feeling giddy, probably more with happiness, with hope, than with the alcohol.

I looked at John the same moment he looked at me. I put my glass down, my mouth growing dry, and turned back to kiss him. John's hands found my hips, his thumbs brushing slow circles across my skin.

We just sort of brushed our lips together for a moment, our noses grazing, and the moment felt so tender that I could happily have lived it forever.

Except that leaning against the planes of John's chest made me hungrier for a lot more than soft kisses. I pressed closer, shifting one of my legs between his, and pulling him into a deeper, harder kiss. John's hands tightened on my waist.

His shirt was smooth under my fingers as I slid them down his chest and belly to the waistband of his jeans. His skin was wonderfully warm to the touch.

John's breathing hitched as I unfastened his pants, and he groaned softly as I rubbed my fingers over his cock.

"Babe," he murmured near my ear. A warm shiver slid through me and I smiled at him, slid down to kneel in front of him.

I tongued the head of his cock for a moment before slipping it into my mouth. He tasted so good, smelt so warm and musky and delicious that my head felt light. It had only been a couple of weeks, what with going to the city, and the drama with Zack and then being so sick... so I say only, but it felt like forever.

"Keith," John murmured above me. I increased suction, pulled his pants down over his hips, freed his balls.

I bobbed up and down for a few moments, enjoying John's soft low noises, the feel of him in my mouth. I let him plop back out of my mouth and licked the underside of his cock, down to his balls and up again. I loved the feel of his sac in my palm.

"Keith..." John whispered, suddenly pulling me away. "Babe," he murmured, kissing me and plundering my mouth.

I grinned as he kissed his way down my neck, pulled my shirt off over my head. He licked my nipples briefly in passing, left them cold and hard as he continued down my body. I leant back against the desk, let him unfasten my jeans and pull them down over my hips. He didn't leave them there, like I had his, but pulled them down to my ankles and got me to lift one leg at a time so he could undress me totally.

John smiled at up me from his position on his knees, that twinkle in his eye. There was something so warm about him. Maybe it was just that I loved him so much.

He leant forward, licking the underside of my cock. I groaned. At first when we'd been together I'd thought he was reciprocating just to prove that despite being closeted he was really gay, but it had become apparent that he enjoyed this. Probably not as much as I loved his cock, but he really liked it all the same.

I slipped my fingers into his hair as he sucked one of my balls into his mouth, pulling down and making me whimper. He knew exactly where to stop, returned to licking my dick with long, slow swipes of his tongue.

"Please," I found myself whispering. God, I needed this so bad. "It's been weeks and I've been wanting so much- John. John..." He finally sucked the head into his mouth and I leant further back, watching him take me deeper, pleasure tingling through my body, from my toes to my scalp. I tried to breathe normally, tried to slow my reactions, but it wasn't working. I was burning up, heading rapidly towards climax and that just wouldn't do. Not yet.

I pushed John off me, dropped down in front of him and kissed him. His tongue was slick and sinfully talented against my own. It was increasingly hard for me to imagine that he'd never kissed another man before me. His arms wrapped around my waist and hitched me closer against him, made me want to abandon my plans of drawing things out... I had to unwind his arms from around me before I could get up.

"One sec," I said hastily, bolting out of the office and up to my bedroom. I grabbed condoms and lube and raced back again. My cock bobbed ridiculously in front of me, pointing the way back to him. John hadn't wasted the time I'd been gone. He was naked and waiting for me.

He reached his out to me but pulled my shift swiftly over my head instead of taking me into his arms.

"Bend over, babe," John murmured, divesting me of the box and the bottle. I leant forward over the desk, the wood and leather cool against my chest, trying not to gasp for air.

John's fingers were lightly scraping up the backs of my thighs, smoothing my cheeks but barely parting them.

"You're so hot for this," John teased on a breath. "Look at you waiting."

"John, don't tease me!" I groaned. "I've been waiting for weeks..." He laughed softly and I smiled to myself as his thumbs finally moved deeper between my cheeks, spreading me.

John's fingers teased lightly, and I smiled wider as I felt him kiss the skin of my leg. He had moved his mouth lower than my balls a couple of times before, but I'd had the feeling it wasn't something he'd done much before, if at all. I loved it when he did.

His mouth moved to the softer flesh inside my thigh, moved higher. "John... please, please," I whispered, sliding my hands to the edges of the desk and curling my fingers over them.

John laughed softly and the noise of it just made me want him more. I felt his lips kissing my butt cheek, moving closer to my crack. Moving...

There was a long moment where I waited, feeling taut and electric... and then the sensation of his tongue...

I moaned, tried to shift back against him as he teased me lightly. His tongue was slick and hot, danced fleetingly over my skin, but I needed more.

John pulled back and laughed softly and I groaned.

"John," I pleaded and he laughed softly and began to gently bite my cheek. "John!" I objected urgently. He made a deep noise in his chest behind me and I gasped for breath as his tongue returned to my hole. He pushed his tongue against me, tried to push it inside me. I clung to the desk, moaned helplessly as he began to stroke my cock.

I didn't want to wait anymore. I stood up and John's hands slid up my belly and stroked my chest, his erection nudged into my crack. I turned my head and drew him into a kiss over my shoulder.

"Want to ride you," I murmured against his neck, a shiver running through my body.

"Yes," John agreed softly, his hands tightening on me. He went to move away but I pulled him back.

"Here." I whispered. "On the desk."