Bent Backwards Ch. 09

"I didn't see this coming," She said to Oliver, "but I guess, I didn't know you well enough to truly be able to vouch for your character. I thought I did, but I didn't." Ollie looked down, pressing his lips together. It takes everything I have not to try to defend him.

"And as for you," she spat at me, "I've known you for years and in that time, I never once saw a single Goddamned thing that made me think you were anything other than a good man. I thought Liza was lucky to have you." I swallowed hard at the mention of her name. "I thought you were my friend. I hope you're happy with yourself. You have managed to shock the shit out of me, and that's not something many people can do anymore."

We both felt like utter shit, but neither of us had a word to say in our defense. In situations like this, "I'm sorry," rings a bit hollow. We know we were wrong. We both wish we'd done things differently.

So, yes, there's been a bit of excitement about it, a bit of gossip, but truthfully, the people we love have been unbelievably supportive.

The one exception has been my hyper-religious, hyper-judgmental cousin, Jim. It's taken him a couple of months to get in touch and now that he has, he's taken it upon himself to send me a long email, outlining my sins and highlighting the fact that in his humble opinion, I'm a path that leads straight to hell.

I delete the email without responding, but when I tell Ollie about it, he's angry for me. He's upset for me. His eyes are brimming with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching for me.

"I'm fine," I say, taking his hand and shrugging, "I guess, he's not someone who matters."

"What an asshole." He says with an edge in his voice. He's protective of me. I know how he feels. Part of me feared more for him, when he told the people who matter to him, then I did for myself. I could handle the pain of rejection for me, but I just couldn't stand it for him.

"You know what," I say, after a pause, "I think this is just a classic case of the trash taking itself out."

He smiles a little, despite himself, and gives a little nod.

It must stay with him though, as a little bit later he asks, "If you could go back in time, would you change anything?"

"Sure," I say, "I'd do lots of things differently."

He eyes me thoughtfully, as I continue, "I could have done with a little more honor, you know, a little more integrity."

He doesn't nod, he doesn't need to. He was there. He got to know me, at my worst.

"A little less of the fear and cowardice, might have been nice."

He's smiles now, just a little.

"It might have been a good idea to dial down the denial, quite significantly."

I look down at him, feeling nothing but relief and contentment. Absolute certainty, that I'm right where I belong.

"But, if you're asking if I would do anything to change what happened between us, well, then I guess, yes. One thing."

He eyes me carefully, as I take a deep breath, "If I could go back in time, I would. I'd go back to the day that we met and I'd set my alarm a little earlier, I'd leave home a little sooner, I'd walk to the bar a little quicker... just so I could get to you, a little bit faster."

He's not smiling now. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek briefly on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my body. When he looks up, his eyes are soft, unguarded, telling me everything I need to know.

"You were right, you know," he says, feigning surprise, "you really are pretty good at this stuff."

*

It's Saturday morning and I'm awake before him. I usually am. I lie still, trying not to wake him. I want him to sleep as long as he needs to.

It's been nine or ten months since I asked him to move in, and I still can't believe how much I love living with him. I used to think I loved living alone. I thought of my apartment as a sanctuary, just for me. A cave, for me to retreat into. Since being with him, I don't seem to need that anymore. Since I started living a life that's true to myself, I don't have the need I once had, to retreat. I don't have the need to hide anymore.

Since he moved in, the place has come alive. His books fill the bookshelf and his plants line the windowsill in the kitchen. We donated my bed and replaced it with his. The rug he bought in Morocco, warms the living room and two large, black and white photographs his father took in Killarney Park in Kerry, take pride of place, above the sofa.

The apartment's not a cave anymore, it's something much better. Now, it's a home. It's our home, for now. We're saving to buy a place of our own. We want to find something that needs work. Something we can put our own stamp on. We're looking for something with a guest bedroom. Oliver always gets an awful little glint in his eye, when he says to realtors, "For us, a spare room is essential."

He's right about that, our spare room gets one hell of a work-out.

I glance down at him. His eyelids are fluttering, he's about to wake up. I sit up a little, leaning back against the headboard, as he opens his eyes.

"How did you sleep?" He asks gruffly, still warm and sleepy.

"Like a baby." I say, "You?"

"Mmh," he says, "so, so well."

He sits up too, leaning over, brushing his lips lightly against mine, before tilting his head to the side slightly. I bow my head down, kissing the base of his neck, right where his neck and his shoulder meet. I kiss him again, then I drag my mouth and my nose up the arch of his neck, all the way to his ear, inhaling deeply as I do.

"Unng." I moan softly. He knows how much I love this. He knows what his smell does to me. He knows all my secrets now, and I know his, too. Most mornings, this little ritual makes it very, very hard for us to get out of bed, but today, his stomach is grumbling.

"I'm starving," he says, "you hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat."

"Come on," he says, "I'll cook."

We climb out of bed. He puts on a pair of sweatpants and I find my pyjama bottoms and pull them on, too.

He gets to work in the kitchen. It looks like he's making pancakes, my favourite. I sit down on the sofa, and start strumming my guitar. I'm playing absently. Not really thinking about what I'm doing, just picking out notes, as they come to me.

"What's that you're playing?" He says, "I haven't heard that one before."

"It's one I wrote."

"It sounds a little sad." He says.

I smile. He's so perceptive. "I was sad when I wrote it."

He looks up at me, his eyes approaching and retreating softly, gauging how I'm feeling.

"I wrote it after you left." I explain.

He nods. "Play it again."

I tune the E string a little. I start finding the notes for the song. I haven't thought of it in so long, but it comes back to me quickly. Unsurprising really, when I think of all the nights, it went round and round in my head. I start to play.

I don't know, the man in the mirror

He's a stranger to me,

Maybe I took him by force

But what he did was worse,

He took me slowly

Bound me and chained me

The spell can't be reversed

So, I'm burnt and still burning

Burnt and still burning

I stop playing, looking up at him. His eyes are closed, but when he opens them. I recognize the look in them instantly.

I love that look.

"Come 'ere." He says, using his low voice. You better believe, when he looks at me like that, I come running. I always do.

He runs his hand up my chest, pausing at my heart. I know he can feel it picking up the pace. He leans in and kisses me. He kisses me with tongue. It starts slowly, but it doesn't stay that way for long.

"Still burning, Baby?" He asks.

"Always." I smile.

He pulls open my drawstring roughly, making me take a quick breath. My pyjamas loosen around my waist and fall slowly down my hips. My abs clench instantly, when I see his intention. He kisses my neck, and then down my chest, flicking each nipple with his tongue, before moving down even further. He eases himself down on his knees.

"Hey," I say softly, "do you want me to get a pillow for your knees?"

He looks up at me with a devilish smile, "Nah, it's not my knees, I'm feeling right now."

He runs his hand up my thighs, slowly. Then he does it again. Even slower this time. It's shocking how quickly I respond to him. Even now, all it takes is a look, a word, a touch, and I'm right back there, spinning, reeling, falling, just like I did, the very first time we were ever in a room together.

He takes my shaft in his hand, stroking gently, as he starts licking my head. His tongue swirls around me, dancing in circles, until I find it hard to stand still. He sinks his mouth down on me, taking me in. Licking and sucking, until I moan softly, in pleasure.

He looks up at me, the way he always does, as he reaches down, and sets himself free, showing me, what he has for me. He's swollen and hard. He reaches for my hand, kissing my palm and then placing my hand at the back of his skull. I know what that means. He wants me to fuck him. He wants me to take his mouth and make it mine.

Ooh, that turns me on hard.

I ease myself into his mouth slowly, over and over, as I hold him firmly in place. A little deeper each stroke. Until he's gasping and panting, his lips reddening and his eyes blazing.

I love the way he looks, when his mouth is full of my cock.

He reaches down and starts stroking himself, moaning a little on my dick, sending gentle vibrations straight through me.

Oh, God.

I reach back and steady myself on the counter, my thighs have started to shake and I feel as though my legs might give way. His hand is moving fast. He's gaining speed. He's going for glory.

"Wait!" I gasp, "Don't let go, save it for me."

I can see he can't wait long, so I cum as fast as I can, holding his head in my hands, spurting hot ropes of semen, into his mouth.

I fall to the floor, as quick as I can, grabbing his hand off his dick, replacing it with my mouth and my hands. I suck him gently and stroke him firmly, just how he likes it. He reaches back, putting both hands on the floor, holding himself up, as his entire body arcs up off the floor, every part of him straining to get closer to me. I sink up and down on him, over and over.

"Aarrgh." He bellows as he lets go, shooting a load so deep in my throat, that I hardly taste it, as I swallow.

We both collapse onto the kitchen floor, but the tiles are freezing cold, so we get up before very long, laughing a little, as we pull up our pants.

"Wow." He says, leaning his head against mine, for a second.

"Mmmh," I whisper into his ear, licking my lips, "the breakfast of champions."

"Jesus." He says, shaking his head and giving me a playful swat on the ass, before letting out a real beauty of a laugh, from deep in his belly.

He gets back to work on the pancakes and I pour him a glass of orange juice and then get the coffee brewing. I watch him for a moment, his arms are flexing slightly, as he mixes the batter. I could watch him all day. He's humming the chorus of the song I just played. He looks happy and completely content.

This is it, I think, this is the moment.

"Hey," he says, as I walk down the hall, "where are you going?"

I turn back and smile, "I just need to fetch something from the bedroom."

I close the bedroom door carefully behind me and quickly open the top drawer of the dresser. I move my socks aside -- there it is. The small black box, I picked up yesterday. It's been burning a hole in my pocket ever since.

I've booked a table at La Casa for dinner tonight. Ollie knows we're going for dinner, but he doesn't know why, or who else will be there. I've invited two of my brothers and their wives, and obviously, Kip and Ben will be there, too. I've arranged for his mother to fly down, to surprise him.

I'm pretty sure he doesn't suspect anything. I was planning to wait until a bit later in the day to do it, but I'm so excited. I just can't wait anymore.

I open the box and take a slow breath when I see it. It's perfect. It's just what I wanted for him. I pick it up and read the words I had engraved on it. I asked the jeweler to engrave them as deeply as possible. I don't want decades of wear, to erode the sentiment.

I hope that he loves it. I hope, that when he tells the story, he'll say, "It was just a normal morning, just a morning, like any other morning for us. A morning we've had so many times before, a morning, we'll have countless times again in the future."

I hope he'll say, "It was perfect." And then, I hope he'll give me that smile. His secret smile. The one that only affects his eyes. The one that only I know. I hope he'll smile like that, when he remembers what we did to each other on the kitchen floor, moments before.

I close my fist around the ring, holding it tightly as I take a few more deep breaths. Nerves suddenly fluttering in my belly.

This is it.

I walk back to the kitchen, standing next to him for a moment, looking at him, studying every minute detail. I don't want to miss a thing. I want this moment stamped into my memory forever.

I kiss his cheek softly, feeling it instantly crease into a smile, as I do. I kiss him twice more, this time, I do it for luck.

I hold my closed fist out in front of him, watching, waiting, until he looks down at my hand, before opening my palm slowly. I see the precise second he sees it. The exact moment, he realizes what's happening. He draws breath sharply, his chest expanding quickly and his mouth dropping open slightly. I see the look of delight and surprise in his eyes, as his hands fly up to his face.

I hold the ring up to the light, turning it slowly, so he can read the words engraved on it.

Forever won't be enough.

He blinks several times. I can see he's not breathing.

"What do you say, Baby." I say, "Will you be mine, forever and always?"

He's smiling now, the biggest, most beautiful smile, I could ever imagine. His chest is heaving and his eyelashes are wet in the corners. He nods his head rapidly up and down.

"Yes!" He says, falling into my arms, "Yes! Of course, yes!"

He looks at me, resting his forehead against mine, "I already am."

I lean in, as close as I can, kissing him, as I ease the ring onto his finger.

I've been wrong about so many things, but I know I'm not wrong about this. I know I was right, all those months ago, when I said, "Forever won't be enough." I know that it won't be. I know that much is true.

For the two of us, forever won't be enough.

But it's a start.

*

The End

*

Thank you for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it. I found it very interesting to write this story from a different perspective. I think it's taught me a lot.

If you've read Bent and Bent Backwards, I'd love to know which one you preferred. Feel free to comment and let me know what you think, I value your feedback.