After the End Ch. 17

In short, I didn't disagree that what we'd lost was invaluable and irreplaceable. For me, however, the adjustment hadn't been as difficult. I realized that for my husband, any level of interaction with Graham only generated an excruciating desire for more, but I preferred to have some relationship with the captain rather than none. I hadn't disclosed anything explicit about what was going on at home, but he seemed to understand and respect the need for boundaries in that area. There was plenty we could talk about that didn't infringe on Avery's privacy.

I was careful with our physical boundaries as well. Even though casual contact would have been allowable within the new form of our friendship, I kept my distance, because regardless of how involved Graham was with Jade, the attraction between us still crackled when we got too near. I couldn't risk a companionable arm around the shoulders turning into a kiss, or more. There were times I caught something like wistfulness in his eyes, when we parted with nothing except a courteous nod. But he never suggested he was anything less than fully committed to his girlfriend, so I didn't suggest anything either.

When Avery's sniffles had subsided, I was surprised to feel his hands tugging me to my side and his lips pressing tentatively to mine. I kept my kisses cautious, pausing between each one to see if he wanted more, but despite the teary tracks crossing his cheek beneath my palm, his mouth kept moving against mine. After a minute, he nudged my hand downward.

I pulled back slightly from his lips. "We don't have to do anything if you're not up for it." It's what I should have said earlier, instead of forcing a disaster, but I'd been too scared. "I only wanted to make you feel good."

"I want you to make me feel good," he said, still raw and echoing of sorrow, though he seemed to mean it. "But I...don't know if I can."

I kissed his sweet mouth again. "Let's take the pressure off, ok? This doesn't have to end with an orgasm, or even an erection. We can start very slow, and if you'd like more touch, just let me know where. If there's anything you don't like, you can redirect me."

"Ok," he whispered after a moment, letting go of my hand.

We traded quiet kisses in the dark, and I stroked his skin softly, with reverence, as if he were made of porcelain. Unlike before, he relaxed into my caresses, and I didn't try to achieve any result other than comfort and connection. Sometimes there was fresh moisture on his cheeks when my fingers brushed them, but I took that as a positive sign: his sadness drawing us together rather than dividing us.

I let his non-verbal responses and the occasional prompting of his hand guide me. He sighed when eventually I ran a palm across one nipple, and I paused for permission before providing more stimulation there. I kept it steady, pleasure for its own sake, not to make him crave anything else. His body remained pliant, and after a while he made a request.

"Will you get the oil?"

"Of course." I reached behind me for the supplies and handed him the bottle, not wanting to assume his intentions. He slid off his trunks, turned onto his back, and pulled me to lie against his side, fortifying himself with my affection. Then he poured some lube into my palm and directed me to his cock.

He was already firm, and he let out another encouraging sigh when I smoothed my hand up his length. His head came to rest against mine while I began a worshipful massage at the epicenter of his primal need.

I'd touched him here countless times over the years -- teasing and pleasing, crafting every variety of desperate hunger and wild delight. I'd frequently exercised the ability to make him beg and moan, yearn and explode, at my command. Yet this, tonight, was more special than any of the occasions he'd throbbed or thrust or sacrificed for me. Being invited to manipulate his most sensitive organ when he was so exposed emotionally, tears still drying on his face, made me feel much closer to him than when the purpose was gratification or control. His internal barriers were gone in a way I wasn't sure I'd experienced before -- as if he'd finally shown me a safe route past the landmines, allowing me to enter the fortress at the core of who he was. Like I was grasping not just his flesh, but his naked soul.

"I've got you, Avery," I murmured like a prayer while I slid my fist over his taut skin. "On your best day and your worst day. And if you have 365 worst days in a row, I'll still be here. I'm your partner -- through anything."

He suddenly tensed and spasmed in my hand, spilling his semen without a sound. I cleaned him off when he was finished, and he curled into me again.

"Do you want...?" he asked, but I shook my head.

"No, I'm fine. That was more than enough for me."

We lay under cover of darkness until our heartbeats slowed. Avery's fingers entwined with mine, and peace seemed to find him at last.

"I love you," he whispered, as poignant and profound as the first time he told me.

Ineffable gratitude filled me when I whispered the words back. However difficult this period had been, it had only served to strengthen the bond between us. And that was worth a broken heart or two.