Bent Ch. 09

Can this be real?

How will this work? Are we out now? Do we need to tell people, or just wait for the rumors to spread through our circles? And how will things work between us?

He comes back into the room, still naked, with a steaming coffee mug in each hand.

"What are you so deep in thought about?" He asks, as he sets my coffee down on the side table and sits down on the bed beside me.

"Hmm," I say, with a smile, "I guess I was just thinking about what it's going to be like to shoulder the full weight of the emotional load in this relationship."

He smiles back at me curiously, "What makes you think it will all be on you?"

I chortle a little, "Well, you've got to admit, you haven't shown yourself to be a stellar communicator."

"Actually," he says matter-of-factly, "I'll have you know, I'm pretty damned good at that stuff."

I hoot. That's a good one.

"It's just," he explains, "I felt like such a shit for what I was doing to Liza, I guess I convinced myself that that made it better somehow. You know, doing the physical stuff with you, but keeping the emotional stuff for her?"

He looks at me, apologetically, "I know it probably didn't make it the slightest bit better for her, or for you."

He sighs, "God knows I tried to stop it. This thing with you. I just couldn't stay away."

I nod. I understand. Heaven knows, I tried to stop it too.

"I've never felt anything like this." He says gravely, his words sending a warm current up my spine.

"So," I tease, "are you trying to say you're not going to tell me to 'shut up' anymore?"

"Nah," he says wickedly, his eye's dancing mischievously, "I'm going to tell you to 'shut the fuck up'."

He smiles as he looks down at me, raising his hand to my face, tenderly sweeping my hair off my forehead and running his fingers lightly along my jaw.

"It's just that now, right after I do, I'm going to hold you and tell you that you can talk to me about anything. Anytime."

His expression is so open, so honest, my head spins. I feel ever so slightly dizzy.

Did I just swoon? Am I swooning now?

"But," I add, feeling bolstered by his mushiness, "you bloody well aren't going to call me a pussy, or a little bitch again, are you?"

"Well?" He says, drawing out the word and raising an eyebrow cheekily.

"Don't you fucking dare, Ethan! I mean it."

"Okay, okay," He laughs, and then adds seriously, "but Ollie, what about this?"

His voice deepens and his eyes darken slightly. "What if I have you?"

I know that look.

"What if you're naked and on your knees?" I feel the blood begin to drain from my head.

"What if I've spread your legs and my tongue's been inside you?"

He leans forward, murmuring into my ear, "What if you're moaning and I'm holding you down?"

I try not to gulp, as he leaps to his feet, holding his hands out, biting his bottom lip, thrusting his hips forward, pretending to hump.

"What if my dick's deep inside you and I'm breeding your ass?"

"Hmm," I say, stiffening more, and trying hard not to smile, "been watching gay porn, huh, Ethan?"

"That," he says, pointing a finger at me emphatically, "is entirely beside the point."

I stifle a giggle. I can see he's enjoying himself immensely, as he continues, "What if I'm fucking you so hard, you're screaming?"

He looks down at me with a devilish grin, "What about then? Huh?"

He's showing off and I confess, I'm enjoying this conversation more than a little, too. Not only that, but the fact that I know he's showing off for me, is making me feel giddy. I eye him up and down, his naked body, his handsome face, his dick at attention, as he continues to act out the scene.

"What about if I have you like that?" He says, darkly, his voice low and ominous, "And then, I call you my little bitch?"

"Well, Ethan," I say with a little cough, "that is some very powerful imagery."

The mood in the room has shifted considerably. I'm starting to feel quite distracted. "I mean," I start, "I guess..."

"You guess?!" He exclaims, "Oliver, really! Isn't this one of those pivotal moments that really require certainty?"

I try not to roll my eyes at him.

"I..." I try again, but the slight tilt of his head, the taut tension in his belly are blurring not only my vision, but my ability to speak, too.

"I'm serious, Ollie. I need to know," he says quietly, "I got this really wrong in the past and it made you walk out of my life, and I'm telling you, it damned nearly killed me."

"Okay..." I say, my voice sounding vague.

"Tell you what," he says seriously, "why don't we try it, and then you can tell me for sure."

I look up at him. His hard body primed, ready. I feel the familiar little quiver, that tremor. That reckless mix of fear and excitement.

"N...Now?" I squeak.

He doesn't answer. He just rips the sheet off me and drags me up and over the edge of the bed with astonishing strength. I swallow hard, as I quickly familiarize myself with my position -- naked, bent, ass up. Just for him.

He's not messing around. He gets the lube and works it into me quickly. I groan from a particularly heady blend of surprise and gratification.

I turn to look back at him. "Go easy," I say softly, "it's been a while."

"Easy?" He snarls, his eyes are wild and his teeth are snapping at my shoulder. "Easy like you went on me yesterday?"

I gulp, as I remember how hard I fucked him. Apprehension floods my belly, as his fingers inundate my anus.

Oh fuck, I think feverishly, I forgot how hard he makes it for me.

It isn't long before he has his dick aimed at my hole, I struggle a little, but he has his hands on my back, holding me down and I can tell from the way that he's breathing, he's no longer Ethan. He's an animal now, driven by nothing but instinct.

And his instinct is telling him, "Thrust!"

And he does.

My God! What a feeling.

I shout harshly, as he penetrates me. Truth be told, my voice sounds more than a little animalistic, too. I feel hot and potent. The sudden fullness, stretching me to my limit and quite possibly beyond. The sharp, quick pain of it, so powerful it makes me see stars.

He doesn't give me long to adjust, his need is too great. He's moving inside me. Fucking me raw. Long, deep strokes. Punishing. Hurting me better than ever before.

I'm frantic, completely wild. The pressure so intense, I can feel it in my face. He keeps going, relentless. All I can do is hold still and take it, and take it, and take it.

At last, I'm shaking and I think that I'm moaning. I can't be too sure though, as the sounds I'm making are merging together, distinct moans and groans finally giving way to a long, unending scream.

He pulls my hair back, his hand tight around my throat, gasping for breath, as he rasps, "You're my little bitch."

I come instantly, with a force that has mass. He's not far behind me, injecting searing hot load after load of his seed deep inside me.

*

And that, is how we both come to realise, when he has me like that, he can call me whatever he likes.

As long as he calls me his.

*

We lie back on the bed, him on his back, me on my side, my head nestled into his shoulder. His chest is still heaving and I can hear his heart galloping wildly. He runs his hand up and down my back, the gentle touch mingled with the orgasmic electricity still cursing through my veins, making me shudder.

Is there any hedonistic pleasure greater that this? Is anything more decadent than lying in the strong arms of the man you love, in broad daylight, your body still trembling, the hot remnant of his sex soothing your tender ass, as it trickles out from between your cheeks?

If there is, I assure you, I don't know what it is.

He takes my hand in his, holding it up, examining it closely, before pressing my fingertips to his lips and kissing them softly.

"Baby," he says, when he finally speaks, "can I tell you what scares me?"

"'Course." I say, looking up at him, as he meets my eyes.

"When it comes to you," he says with a sigh, "I already know, forever won't be enough."

*

Epilogue

*

I roll over, opening my eyes slowly, taking in the crisp white walls and white ceilings. Relief washes over me, as I realise I've woken in our bed. Yes, that's right. Our bed. Like much of our relationship, moving in was something that was largely unspoken. He simply put me to bed early one night, just a few weeks after we got together, telling me I needed my sleep, as we had an early start.

"What's happening tomorrow?" I asked.

"You'll see, Irish."

I woke up to find a u-haul truck in the drive, confused, I asked what was happening.

"We're going to pick up your stuff." He said, as if it should be obvious.

"Why?" I asked dumbly.

"Because," he explained patiently, "you live with me now."

*

That was about six months ago, since then, every day has been better than the last, and last night was no exception. We finally got around to going to the Cock House. I told him about going there alone and how desperately I wanted to be there with him, and since he's in the business of making me happy, last night was our night.

I sigh happily, as I replay the scene. We were on the dance floor, hands all over each other. He was dancing with me, but far from his goofy dance moves, last night, he was moving. Hips against mine, grinding, eyes blazing. A picture.

He seemed to be glowing, as the intermittent dance lights bounced off his face. I can honestly say, he's never looked better, and God knows, when it comes to Ethan, that's saying something. He moved with me, running his hands up my neck, pulling me towards him. No furtive looking around now, as he kissed me with all that he had.

When he finally broke away, his lips were so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath on my neck. "Holy shit, Oliver," he murmured, "I am so gay for you."

A hot, heady feeling rose in my chest, expanding my rib cage, making my heart swell. This feeling, I know. This feeling, I'd recognize anywhere.

Pride

*

The end

*

If you're still here -- thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a comment or send me a message if you have any feedback. I love reading your thoughts.

If you enjoyed this story, and want more, follow me, so you don't miss out on Bent Backwards, which will tell the story from Ethan's perspective.

And, thanks to the Anon who planted the seed for the sequel in my dirty little mind.