Rory and Sebastian Ch. 13

Once he had loosened me up a bit, he pulled his own top off and stripped completely, then he removed my top and made me lie on his jacket on the ground. I shook my head and kicked it away, before lying down, totally naked, on the sodden grass. If we were going to do this, we were going to do it right.

I spread my legs for him and he lay down on top of me, spitting heavily into his hand and rubbing it along his still-wet erection. He kissed me deeply and I looked up at his blond hair, now soaked from the rain and the droplets running messily down his arms and torso. If anyone had happened upon us there and then, I really don't think that even I'd have cared. I was lost in the moment and ran my fingers across his jaw line, as he arched up and entered into me, very slowly. It was the first time we'd ever done it without lube and it hurt, a little, at the start. After a few moments, Sebastian was buried in me to his hilt and I arched my back from the ground and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck. Slowly, confidently, he began to move in and out of me. It rained the whole time he did it.

I remember, at one point during, as he trailed kisses across my neck, thinking that this was what ecstasy must feel like. The sensation, I mean; not the drug. The one that saints and artists are supposed to feel, when their feelings are so sublimely perfect and happy that they transcend even themselves. I felt like Sebastian and I were the only two people ever to have existed. I don't know what it was, but I felt both not like myself and more like myself than ever before. I must have felt the cold, because by this stage it was freezing, but I didn't register it.

Today, Sebastian still says the best night we ever spent together was our wedding night, but for me, it was then. I think part of it must have been realising that after all the trauma, tension and upset of the last month -- of my eating disorder, his ultimatum, his discomfort, his stress, my neuroses -- that we were still us. That the synchronicity he sometimes talked about had only been temporarily strained, not broken. We'd been struggling for days or weeks to find a way of getting all the emotion out -- him, in particular, as his tears the night before had made clear. Now, here, we could. He didn't stop kissing me, one way or the other, the whole way through. I came against him and onto myself two or three minutes before he grunted 'I love you' in my ear and sprayed inside me.

We lay there for a few moments and he giggled, nuzzling my neck. With the orgasms passed, the moment was over, too, and the fully physical reality of lying naked and sweating on a freezing forest floor kicked in. We got up quickly and dressed in our wet clothes. I'd left my jacket in Sebastian's car, which meant I was able to use it to cover my clothes long enough to get inside, up to my room and into my shower before Dermot noticed the state I was in. Sebastian went over to his house to get showered and changed; by the time I came back downstairs, him and Dermot were playing on the playstation again. A sly wink over the top of Dermot's head from a now impeccably-tidy Sebastian was his only acknowledgment of earlier's naughtiness.

After that day, he and I were about to enter one of the most genuinely happy periods of our first time together. I began to see a therapist, although I did not tell him this for the first month. Everything settled into being very easy and very happy, again. My own issues did not really resurface and therapy managed to keep them at bay and to help them, bit by bit. The weather steadily improved and even the impending spectre of final exams and university did not seem to dampen our time together. We slipped seamlessly into a time of synchronised happiness and enjoyment. It was a kind of elongated summer, before the first cracks began to appear that would lead inexorably to our first break-up and my first heartbreak.