A gay story: After the End Ch. 17 Author’s note:
This is the fifth chapter of After the End – Part 3, the final novel in my dystopian erotic romance trilogy. If you enjoy intensely provocative sex with a power play twist, handsome male heroes in emotionally satisfying relationships, and unconventional happily ever afters — you are in the right place! These books are full-length, publication-quality, and currently being offered free of charge. 🙂
Descriptions of each book can be found in my bio by clicking my user name. Feel free to drop in on specific chapters or sections based on your mood or interest, but the dramatic tension is strongest if you start from the beginning of Part 1. As always, I appreciate hearing your reactions and feedback. It truly does help me create the best stories that I can for readers to enjoy.
Content warning: This chapter depicts intense, distressing, and long-lasting emotions experienced with the loss of a relationship (breakup). Please proceed with caution and be gentle with yourself if this could be upsetting for you. Helpful resource: jedfoundation.org/resource/the-painful-truth-about-breakups
Tags for this chapter include: #bisexual male, #future, #dystopia, #novel, #romantic, #gay romance, #married, #male submissive, #friends
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Julian:
A couple of weeks after the extravagant celebration of my fourth anniversary with Avery, Graham was over at our quarters again, as he frequently was when community responsibilities didn’t demand our attention elsewhere. Avery and I could have gone to his place instead, but since there were two of us and only one of him, it made more logistical sense for him to trek across Fort Laurel. He said he preferred being here anyway, since we’d accumulated more creature comforts over the years, whereas his room only contained what he’d been able to carry on the journey from his former base in California, plus a few basic amenities.
The three of us continued to enjoy lively sexual encounters on a regular basis, not yet having come close to exhausting our lust or curiosity for experimentation together. Power play and structured games featured when they suited us, but by no means did we limit our activities to those specific modes. This evening hadn’t been anything too special, but it certainly left us all satisfied.
“You staying tonight?” Avery asked Graham, who was taking his turn at our wash basin. My partner had ended up to my right and was hunting down his trunks, which he located under the nightstand. I handed him the bottle of lube and small towel to put away while he was there.
“If it’s alright with both of you,” the captain replied, looking over his shoulder to each of us for confirmation. In another moment he’d dried off and returned to the bed.
Graham had slept over on a number of occasions, enough that it was starting to feel routine for him to pull his briefs on and climb under the sheet with us. The late-summer nights were finally cooling off enough to get some use out of our light cotton quilt, but we wouldn’t need the extra layer until we’d rested for a while.
Avery crawled over me to get to the center of the bed, where he always slept when Graham was here. They shared an easy, affectionate relationship that usually ended with Avery snuggled into the captain’s arms for the night.
“Why do you always get to be in the middle?” I challenged playfully. The one time Graham had taken that position, on our anniversary, the results had been…not unwelcome.
My husband’s explanation was blissfully unconcerned. “Because I want to be next to you, and I want to be next to Graham.”
Our third partner shot me a conspiratorial glance and picked up my tone. “What if I want to be next to Julian?”
“Do you?” Avery asked, suddenly uncertain.
Graham shrugged and shared his trademark cocky grin with me, which made my lips quirk up too. “Wouldn’t mind.”
The enthusiasm drained from my partner. “Yeah, ok,” he said, probably not intending to sound as devastated as he did. He ducked his head and started to climb back to my other side.
Graham responded immediately, reaching for Avery’s arm with evident compassion. “Hey, come here.” He pulled Avery toward him, encountering no resistance, until my partner was settled into his favorite position with his back against Graham’s well-built chest. “I won’t if it would bother you,” the captain told him, entwining the slimmer body with a sturdy arm.
Avery didn’t answer, but his pleased expression and contented nestling said plenty.
“Ok,” Graham conceded warmly, kissing Avery’s curly head. Then he grinned at me. “Spoiled, isn’t he?”
I returned the gesture, feeling warm myself, and reached to turn off the light, but Avery’s hand emerged to catch me. “Wait.”
“What?”
He tugged my wrist and tilted his face up meaningfully. “Goodnight.”
I couldn’t help smiling again at the flirtatious set to his cheeks. I brushed my fingers there and kissed him sweetly. “Goodnight, babe.”
Just as I turned back to the lamp, Graham piped up, insolent and enticing. “Where’s my goodnight kiss, Major?”
I indulged him with another smile and leaned over to give his mouth an answer that was more spicy than sweet. “You’re a bit spoiled yourself,” I informed him afterward.
“Can’t argue with that,” he replied with a roguish glint in his striking emerald eyes.
“Go to sleep, boys,” I bossed fondly, finally managing to switch the light off and settle down myself. Avery stayed where he was, but one hand wove into mine. The peaceful domesticity lulled me to unconsciousness in record time.
Autumn blew in with the first major storm to strike from the Gulf since Third Battalion arrived in the region. We’d established Fort Laurel far enough inland that most hurricanes had downgraded by the time they reached us, but with both air and sea significantly warmer than they had been in past centuries, storms had more staying power. At our latitude, they could maintain wind speeds of seventy, eighty, even ninety miles per hour, which was enough to sever branches, damage roofs, and blow down smaller structures.
The worst was the flooding. The fort had been sited in our best estimate of a well-drained area that included ample room for homes, livestock, and crops, but until the rains come, it’s impossible to predict where water will stack up. These tropical systems can drop a meter within a few days, turning creeks and bayous into torrential rivers. Without the means to maintain mechanical distribution networks, communities must once again do what humans had done for hundreds of millennia: live near fresh water. But in the wreckage of planet Earth left behind by the industrial era, living near water can be almost as dangerous as living away from water.
We’d had a close call with major flooding a couple of years ago, so we were slightly better prepared this time, but much still depends upon the exact confluence of temperature, moisture, and wind. This storm was particularly hard on the military section of the fort, since the troops lived under canvas tents that, although they were woven to be durable in most conditions, could not withstand hurricane-force winds. We at least had some warning of the severe weather’s approach, thanks to the military’s access to networked data. But forecasts were nothing like they’d been in the heyday of satellite imagery and supercomputer modeling.
When the winds rose to dangerous speeds, Bravo and Echo Companies ended up scrambling to collapse their tents before the ropes and poles snapped. Days like that are simply exhausting: hour after hour of emergency efforts to salvage irreplaceable materials and protect the lives of people and animals, all while battling blinding rain, slogging mud, and punishing winds that tear away anything not nailed down. The nights offer no relief. Darkness only compounds the dangers, and with thousands of people trying to shelter in a very limited number of structurally-sound buildings, no one gets much sleep.
Despite our best efforts, we suffered a couple of tragic casualties: one of Echo Company’s infantry received a traumatic head injury when a large tree limb snapped at just the wrong moment, and Fort Laurel lost a young farmhand who was swept down the creek and drowned while trying to save a stranded horse.
The losses put a damper on the annual harvest celebration, which ended up being postponed while we rebuilt fences and tried to air out flooded homes. Avery and I were lucky in that our building stayed intact, but that meant we had other community members crowded in with us until their own homes could be inhabited again. For a few days, we even stayed with Vik and Gavin so that a family with several young children could use our quarters. We hardly saw Graham outside of coordinating rescue and repair efforts.
The autumn festival was a tradition we’d started the year we established the fort. At that time, it was intended to be a supplementary outpost for the main community at Sabine Ridge, and the team I’d led included only about thirty people. After weeks of nearly continuous labor, we’d successfully established food supplies and shelter, and we took the opportunity for a day of rest and recreation. Avery and I had rather fond memories of the night we’d shared on that occasion, very early in our relationship.
After the entire community relocated here, the festival had been celebrated a bit sooner, at the beginning of October on the date we first camped at this site. The event wasn’t as elaborate as the one held at the winter solstice, but there was feasting, a number of tournaments, and performances of various kinds. This year, due to the participation of several hundred soldiers, some additional contests and exhibitions had been planned. Third Battalion was still being supplied out of Fort Worth, and they’d agreed to trade some of their rations for a share of the feast. Members of our allied farming collective were also making the trip. They’d provided much of the grain and vegetables we’d be consuming, so it was only fair we included them.
On the day of the festival, Avery spent the afternoon with Rowan, Lamont, Tara, and Verity. He’d devoted a lot of time this year to his de facto goddaughter, who at fourteen months had apparently reached the stage where adults became fascinated with her responses to every new experience. Myself, I didn’t see the appeal of watching a baby fuss over things it wouldn’t even remember in an hour. Humans gained an advantage as a species by the fact that our brains take twenty-five years to develop. The first five are critical to long-term performance, but in my opinion, they’re rather something to tolerate than to obsess over.
I didn’t care how much time he spent with Verity as long as he didn’t drag me into it, which he was considerate about. It still sometimes made me uneasy that he seemed to derive so much joy from supporting her upbringing, when I wasn’t even slightly willing to raise any children of our own. I could only hope that participating in her life would help satisfy the paternal instinct for him.
Once I’d seen to the daily tasks of security and provision, I went to check in with Graham. The festival included live music outdoors through much of the afternoon and evening, offering a soundtrack to the array of sporting events and family activities. In addition to performing with his unit’s cover band, he’d been recruited to join a civilian bluegrass group. When I found him, they were warming up near the main pavilion. He nodded in acknowledgement without breaking rhythm on his guitar. Bluegrass was not my taste, and it wasn’t particularly Graham’s either, but he enjoyed the challenge of mastering a new skill, and he’d raved over some of the techniques he’d learned from Jade, one of Fort Laurel’s best guitarists, who was strumming beside him. Definitely not a style they’d have taught us in youth orchestra back in Portland.
“One minute, guys,” he told the other string players when they finished their song, then stepped over to me. “Hey, Major.” As usual, he referred to my rank for the purpose of affection rather than formality, as I did with him.
“All good on your end?” I asked.
“Yep,” Graham confirmed, storing his pick between the guitar strings. “Watch has been set and no disturbances reported. The visiting farmers reached the western patrol just before I left base, so they should be arriving soon. You joining any reindeer games today? I’d bet you could take the prize in target shooting.” His own words suddenly seemed to strike him with fresh meaning, and he continued enthusiastically before I could respond. “We should do that! You enter, I’ll place that bet, and then I’ll win too.”
“I’m not personally interested in winning a prize by demonstrating my proficiency at ending lives. I don’t need any more reminders. But Maurice’s boxing match is next, so I’ll be backing him.”
“You’re going to miss my performance to watch people smack each other in the face?” the captain complained good-naturedly.
“You didn’t really think I was going to subject myself to folk music when it wasn’t absolutely necessary, did you?” I countered.
Graham landed a playful punch on my shoulder. “You’re such a snob, Demos. People have been composing folk music for way longer than rock and roll.”
“What can I say? I was raised on Beethoven, but I prefer Black Sabbath. Many would consider that a low-brow exchange.”
“Hey, Jade and I had a pretty heavy jam session the other day. She can handle your early metal stuff.”
“Shame I’m not going to hear any today, then, isn’t it?”
“I’ll see if I can arrange a private concert for you,” he laughed.
Later that night, after we’d consumed copious amounts of savory stews and slow-roasted root vegetables, and after prizes had been awarded for everything from soccer to relay races, a small group of us climbed to one of the empty guard platforms: Maurice and Iris, the two veterans who had originally joined me in migrating to Louisiana, plus myself, Graham, and his counterpart Rae, commander of Echo Company. From here, we could carry on a conversation without yelling and still watch the festivities below. I could see Avery down in the crowd with a pack of his friends, all breaking out into some sort of line dance. He’d likely be there until the last revelers straggled home.
I still found Rae’s personality to be a taste I’d yet to acquire, but she’d stood up very well to the recent emergency conditions. She’d proven capable of quick, strategic decisions under pressure and had inspired her troops to maintain both discipline and morale. Why Graham considered her to be a close personal friend was more of a mystery.
“How’s Shawna doing?” Rae asked Iris, referring to her partner of nearly two years. The pair had decided to conceive a child with the help of a male friend. “Getting close to halfway, isn’t she?”
“Yes, eighteen weeks along. She’s doing well,” Iris replied. “I wouldn’t want to go through it myself, but she says it’s the most alive she’s ever felt.”
“Kudos to you guys,” Rae emphasized. “I can do firefights, food shortages, and natural disasters all day. But screaming infants and toddlers, demanding attention to their bodily functions around the clock?” She raised both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “I’m out.”
“Can’t believe you’re going to deprive the next generation of this world-class pilot DNA,” Graham joked, nudging Rae’s shoulder. “There are few enough of us as it is.”
“And what about you?” she returned in her typical animated fashion. “I don’t see you settling down and rearing any Lansing cubs. Major Demos here has flawless genes, but you’re not going to get any babies out of him.”
Surprisingly, her jab appeared to have hit a mark, though I wasn’t quite certain what it was. Graham’s sarcastic reply sounded more discomfited than I would have expected for one of Rae’s habitual irrational statements.
“Thank you for that biology lesson, Larsen. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need help identifying a breeding partner.”
“I for sure ain’t raising it, but I’ve told you before…” She did one of her saucy smirks while wagging a thumb between herself and Graham several times. “We’d make damn beautiful babies, wouldn’t we?” She looked around at the rest of us for confirmation, but no one was especially enthusiastic.
“Honestly, though,” she continued undeterred, “the two of you would make beautiful babies too.” Her glance indicated me and Graham. “If you go back west, Major, you should see if Blair would carry for you. Then you and Graham could raise it — the perfect little aristocratic warrior. How adorable would that be: the Demos dark hair and pouty lips, with the Lansing green eyes and delicate nose…”
The other captain looked even more uncomfortable, and his brow furrowed. “You take too many blows to the head in that boxing match, Rae? Julian is married, remember? If he had any children, it would be with his own spouse. And it’s none of your concern whether they do.”
Mercifully, Maurice stepped in to steer the conversation away from Rae’s hare-brained machinations, and we moved on to discuss the controversial finish to the volleyball tournament, which had hinged on a hotly-contested line call.
I didn’t stay out much longer; noise and small talk were nearly as tiring for me as hurricane winds and rain. I headed back to our room, which was finally free of guests, and crashed hard. For once I didn’t wake up even when Avery climbed into bed sometime in the early hours.
We granted ourselves a late start the morning following the festival, but after that, there was much work required to make up for the days and supplies we’d lost due to the storm. The beginning of autumn was always busy, even when we weren’t dealing with destructive weather. Despite the fact that we’d only just gotten a respite from the summer’s heat, the forest was already showing signs of winter’s approach, when many food sources would go dormant. There was no time to spare if we were to collect and store enough to get us through those barren months.
Between the long rotations and busy evenings coordinating with other community leaders, a couple of days passed before Graham and I had a chance to speak again. He pulled me aside after that morning’s training session, a particularly demanding set of bodyweight exercises that imparted the familiar satisfying burn of maintaining peak physical condition. The cool autumn breeze was welcome against my exertion-dewed skin.
“Hey, I wanted to apologize for Rae’s comments the other night,” he said when we’d toweled off the worst of the sweat. “She has no filter; she doesn’t understand the merit of having one. It makes her an incredible pilot but thorny in social situations.”
“No need to apologize,” I replied. “I don’t take any of her ramblings seriously.”
“Ok.” He watched his soldiers head to their stations in the crisp slanting sunlight, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. When he turned to me again, his tone was more cautious. “Look, I’m not sure exactly how this goes, in a situation like ours. But I wanted to let you know that…Jade and I have started seeing each other.”
He watched for my reaction, but I didn’t have enough information to generate one. After a moment, he went on.
“It’s just casual, right now…we’re just hanging out, seeing if there’s potential for anything more. She obviously knows about my relationship with you and Avery.” He shifted his pack on his shoulder. “She’s really talented — not just musically, but also with math and mechanics. She’s been working with my unit on adapting our systems to the weather conditions here, and she’s kind of a genius.”
“Yes, she’s a valuable asset to the community,” I agreed.
Again, his gaze lingered on my face as if monitoring for concerns, but I merely waited to see if he had more to say.
“Anyway, I may not be over as much, so I wanted you to know why,” he concluded, glancing toward the secondary gate that separated the main settlement from the military’s addition. “Would you let Avery know?”
“Sure.”
He gave me one more uncharacteristically uncertain look before acknowledging with a nod, then he headed back to his side of the fort.
* * * * *
Avery:
I sort of knew it was coming. Three weeks into October, we’d only gotten together with Graham a few times, and when I did see him around the fort in the evenings, he was usually with Jade. He started coming over to the main hall to have dinner with her when he wasn’t on duty, and sometimes I saw them gathered around one of the fire pits after sundown, each with their guitar, playing and singing and laughing.
She’d never looked at me like that — keen dark eyes sparkling, gorgeous features fully focused, dazzling smile at the ready — back when we’d been hooking up, around the time Julian first arrived at Sabine Ridge. She’s so much smarter than most people, it’s rare for anyone to hold her interest very long. She devotes most of her energy to wrestling with wires and motors and generators, coming up with inventive ways to get the most mileage out of our very limited supply of electricity and to overcome the constant challenges of broken components, material shortages, and new community demands.
I wouldn’t have expected such a serious person to attract Graham’s attention, but maybe that’s why it was lasting instead of fizzling out after a couple weeks, like when I’d hung out with her. I shouldn’t have cared; it had been ages since Jade and I had anything but a casual acquaintance. So what if she preferred the captain to me? I would have preferred him to me too.
Julian and I had just gotten back from a council meeting one evening when a knock rapped our door, followed by Graham’s voice calling, “It’s me.” My first instinct was excitement that he’d chosen us for a visit. But that was quickly soured by uneasiness when he didn’t come inside. Until recently, he would have walked right in, without announcing himself or waiting for permission. If he caught us indisposed, we’d all have considered that a bonus.
“It’s open,” Julian told him, unperturbed because he basically never was.
“Hey guys,” Graham greeted us when he was finally in the room. He stood near the door and didn’t move to take off his boots, another bad sign. “Council approve that resolution?”
“There was an unnecessarily protracted debate,” my husband answered, “and Zavala still voted against, but yes. It passed. Will be effective December 1.”
“That’s good.” Graham reached absently for the whetstone I’d left on the desk after sharpening my knife yesterday. “Listen, can we sit and talk for a minute?”
My stomach, sensing danger, fled somewhere far away — through the floor and maybe all the way into bedrock. No one ever said those words in that tone when the news was positive. Knowing what he was probably about to broadcast didn’t seem like it was going to soften the blow at all.
Julian glanced at me before answering again. “Of course.”
We all kicked off our boots, and our visitor waited for Julian and me to take a seat on the bed. I chose the safest position I could, my back propped defensively against the headboard, so Julian sat beside me, and Graham perched cross-legged on the quilt in front of us. He appeared relaxed, yet he didn’t make any contact with me, which kicked my sense of impending doom up another notch.
“So you know that Jade and I have been getting to know each other the past month or two,” he opened, looking to each of us with his usual sincerity, as if this were any other conversation. “She’s…really great. Beautiful, kind, intelligent, talented, creative… We get along really well, and we’d both like to pursue the relationship further. So I’ll be seeing a lot more of her.” There was the briefest window where I watched the bomb in freefall before it exploded. “And we’ve agreed to be exclusive.”
I heard nothing for a moment. I guessed my heart was still beating, because I could feel it pounding in my throat, and my lungs were still exchanging oxygen, because I hadn’t blacked out. Other than that, I couldn’t have said whether I was alive. Everything seemed to freeze at the instant his words impacted.
Graham reached to take my hand then, but I couldn’t feel his skin. I stared at my fingers, wondering who they belonged to.
“I’ve loved the time I’ve spent with you two,” he said. “When I deployed to the South, I never imagined I’d find two people I liked so much or that I’d end up having all this amazing sex. And I will absolutely still be here as a friend. I hope you know I’ve grown to care about you both, and I want to continue being part of your lives. I just need to make some space for Jade.”
There was another pause while my brain tried to turn the sentences into sense. Somewhere I distantly registered that whatever he was saying seemed important to him, but to me it mostly sounded like ringing in my ears. Then he was speaking again.
“I see the way you are together. How completely you belong to each other. Being with you has made me realize that I want to belong to someone like that. I’m almost thirty-four and not getting any younger. It feels like time for me to start finding a partner of my own, and Jade is someone I don’t want to pass up.”
A couple of silent seconds ticked by before Julian said, “I understand, and I’m happy for you, Graham. And for Jade. I appreciate your thoughtfulness in talking to us about it.”
“Of course. And thank you,” the captain replied. He looked at me, and after another frozen moment, I realized he expected me to respond.
I must have said something — that it was great, or whatever nonsense people want to hear in these situations. But he didn’t move to leave, and I couldn’t stay in the room now that he’d bombed it into unrecognizable fragments. I told them I had plans with Lamont, which I didn’t, but any plan was better than this. Then I got the hell out of there.
Verity was already bedded down, but Lamont had been planning to build her a play structure since she’d started toddling around on her own, so it didn’t take much effort to convince him to head to the workshop with me. Somewhere between sawing and hammering the boards he asked if anything was wrong, but I said no. Objectively speaking, it was true. The relationship with Graham was always intended to be casual and temporary. He’d never committed anything more than whichever given evening he happened to be spending with us. I’d always been with Julian, and I still was. Graham was content with Jade. So nothing was wrong. There was no reason to feel that shrapnel from the explosion had torn open my chest.
I stretched the project out as long as I could, triple-checking all our measurements and suggesting extra improvements, but Verity was typically up early in the morning, so Lamont had to call it a night eventually. After he left, I messed around in the shop for a while longer, but the thoughts in my head just got louder when I was alone. Finally I gave up and went home.
Julian still had the light on and seemed to be waiting for me, but I dodged his questions and told him I was tired. I undressed and got into bed facing away from him, staring at the wall until he took the hint and turned out the lamp. At least in the dark, I could pretend nothing had changed. That it was still the same room where Graham used to tease me and snuggle me and bring me to shattering orgasms. That he hadn’t chosen to be with Jade, doing those things with her instead. That he might come back.
After Julian lay down behind me, of course he said my name. I didn’t want to answer, but I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone until I did.
“Yeah,” I said as neutrally as I could.
“I’m sure Graham’s announcement wasn’t a complete surprise, but I know how much you liked having him here with us. It’s ok if you’re upset.”
“I’m fine.” I needed to be fine, so I chose to be fine. No matter what I really was.
“Babe, if you were fine, you wouldn’t have fled our quarters and then avoided me entirely when you got back,” he countered.
I hated when he did this — intruding on my emotions; refusing to accept my decisions. “What do you want me to say, Julian? It happened, and it’s over. I’m going to sleep.”
I braced myself, knowing he was probably going to reach for me, and he did. His hand landed at my shoulder, and I gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t jerk away.
“Avery…you don’t have to pretend it didn’t mean anything to you. If you’re worried it’ll bother me, it won’t.”
He tried to encourage me closer, but I shrugged him off, hardening my heart against his compassion. “I just want to go to sleep,” I repeated. However unlikely it was that I could accomplish my goal.
I heard him sigh, but at last he conceded. “Alright. I’m here if you change your mind.”
By the time I’d dragged myself through the next day on only a few hours of fitful rest, I was feeling like shit. I’d assumed I just needed to get through the initial shock and then I could move on with my life. But when I saw Graham that morning during drills, the shrapnel hit me all over again, and when I tried to get dinner, the knowledge that he and Jade might show up at any second made it impossible to eat. I couldn’t seem to care about the projects I was supposed to be working on, and I kept forgetting to listen to what people were saying, and the only thing that felt real was what had happened last night.
I didn’t want to be with anyone, but I didn’t want to be alone, so I stayed late in the command center, staring at supply plans without really seeing them. Julian checked on me after his meal and left when I didn’t engage, but obviously I couldn’t avoid him forever, since we lived in the same room.
He was waiting again, sitting in bed with one of Graham’s novels, which roused another memory I couldn’t stand to face. Julian at least had the decency to switch off the lamp as soon as he saw whatever my face looked like, and I curled up in bed for another hopeless night.
My defenses were barely holding together after twenty-four hours of trying to contain the brutal internal battering. So this time when Julian softly spoke my name and caressed my arm, I couldn’t stop the awful pain from welling over. It vice-gripped my chest, seared my throat, and filled my eyes with hot tears.
I tried really hard to stay strong. My husband didn’t deserve to watch me cry over some other man who didn’t even want me. But I couldn’t get away from how much it hurt, not when I used to lie right here in Graham’s secure embrace while he kissed my head and called me baby. And I would never be able to again.
The gasping sobs broke through, and Julian moved in to enfold me, murmuring sympathetic words I could barely hear over the crashing waves of emotion.
“I’m sorry,” I got out between wrenching lungfuls. “You shouldn’t have to — deal with this –”
His voice was devastatingly gentle, like his touch. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for. It’s ok to feel whatever you feel. I’m sorry you’re in pain. I never wanted that. I’m here for you.”
I shook my head, tears spilling as fast as I could wipe them away. “It’s not ok,” I argued between sobs. “It’s not fair to you.”
Julian’s arm wove around me, and despite myself I grabbed onto it like a buoy. “Emotions don’t have to be fair, babe. They are what they are. I’m at least as responsible as anyone for you ending up in this position, and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t want you to go through this alone. So it’s alright. Just let it happen, and it will pass.”
It didn’t feel like it was going to pass. The pain seemed endless — behind every sob was a fresh reminder of what I had lost. Memories flashed through my mind, once some of my most cherished, but now the source of my torture: smiles and jokes and touches; pleasure and longing and tenderness. Why could I not let this go? Why did it seem like losing my casual sex partner would permanently disable my heart?
I hadn’t been in this kind of emotional anguish since Julian had broken up with me. I certainly hadn’t been subjected to this kind of hideous, uncontrollable crying since then. I fucking hated crying. But the raw agony beneath it — the powerlessness of abandonment — was much worse.
Things had worked so well with Vik. We’d spent six months trying out all sorts of wickedly hot sex combinations, and he’d slept over regularly, and I’d had no trouble moving on after he and Gavin started dating. I’d been genuinely happy for them. Only half that length of time had passed since our first meeting with Graham, and we’d barely even seen him during the last few weeks. I’d entered this new arrangement completely disarmed, assuming it was safe because it had been the first time. Having no idea I was risking another unbearable breakup.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I cried to Julian at some point. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you.”
“Ok, babe,” he soothed. “Whatever you need, of course.”
Eventually, somehow, the waves slowed until they were lapping instead of crashing. I sat up and cleaned off my face, and then Julian guided me back into his embrace, this time facing him. He cradled me against his side and stroked my hair and told me he loved me, as he’d done so many times the past four years. I felt horribly guilty that I’d allowed myself to care this much for someone who wasn’t my husband, and more that Julian had to comfort me through it. But I was in no position to resist. I needed to know that even if Graham was gone, Julian was there. I needed him to hold me and tell me I would be ok. I needed to hear that it wasn’t my fault, and that he wasn’t angry with me. Maybe I couldn’t believe any of it yet, but it was far, far better than suffering alone.
“Go to sleep, Avery,” he murmured at last. “I’ll still be here.”
It was our ancient ritual, born the first night he spent with me, and it broke me suddenly down into tears again. Partly because of how deeply I depended on him to keep that promise, and how faithful he’d been. And partly because there was someone else who I also really needed to be here, but who had made no such promise to me, and wasn’t going to.
I must have fallen asleep sometime during that horrible night, because when awareness returned, I’d been dreaming — one of those garden-variety nightmares where it’s critically important that you get somewhere, but your body drags as if the air has turned to quicksand, and the harder you try to move, the slower you go.
Dawn was beginning to show at the shutters, and Julian was awake, but as soon as I remembered the aching emptiness that waited for me in this day, my throat closed up and fresh tears threatened to sting my eyes. God, would this ever end? Would I ever be able to think of Graham without my chest tearing open? I covered my face, but my partner pulled me close again, patient as ever, even though we should have been getting up.
Julian’s hand rubbed my back in soothing circles while I fought another battle against the pain. “Why don’t you take some time off,” he suggested with gentle empathy. “Take the morning, or the whole day. Give yourself a chance to process.”
My head shook against his neck and words forced a path from my tight vocal cords. “No. I’m not staying home because of this. It’s stupid. I didn’t even take a day off after you threw me out. Neither did you.”
“That was a long time ago,” he reasoned. “I hope we’ve both improved our ability to deal with emotions in a healthy way.”
“I don’t want to sit around here thinking about it. I just want things to get back to normal.”
He sighed and kept stroking my back. When he spoke again, he was more hesitant. “I don’t think Graham realized you would be this upset. Maybe we should…talk to him. If he knew how you felt, he might –”
“No,” I interrupted emphatically. I wiped my eyes and attempted to pull myself together. “I don’t ever want him to know how pathetic I am. That would make it worse.”
“But if he –” my partner tried to say, but I cut him off again.
“He wants to be with her, Julian. He wants his own partner. He made that very clear. If he wanted to be with us, he wouldn’t have –” I tried to say left, but the word stuck in my throat. I didn’t breathe for a minute until I could continue. “There’s no point trying to guilt him into feeling bad for me. It wouldn’t change anything.”
Julian at least didn’t keep arguing. “I am really sorry for what you’re going through, babe. I thought it would be ok, since we’d successfully separated from a third person in the past, and we were all clear that our arrangement was short-term. Maybe I should have stepped in before it came to this.”
I tried to imagine at what point I could have avoided this outcome. In hindsight, it seemed pretty much fated since that original evening with the captain. I’d misread my anxiety before his second visit. This was what my brain was trying to protect me from.
My husband’s voice softened further when I didn’t answer. “I didn’t know your feelings for him were so strong, Avery.”
There wasn’t much point in denying it, after I’d spent the night in a puddle against his chest. “I didn’t either,” I whispered, the shrapnel wound throbbing again.
Consoling fingers combed through my hair. “I know you want to move on, but you don’t seem in any condition to be out in public. How about I stay with you for a while? I’m sure Iris would cover for us.”
The generosity of his offer intensified the ache in my throat. I knew I should say no, but I really couldn’t bear the idea of him being anywhere else, so I nodded.
“Let me go tell her, alright? I’ll be right back.”
He disentangled, dressed quickly, and slipped out the door. I lay under the quilt, miserable and ashamed of myself, but much more miserable than ashamed. By the time he returned, I was crying again.
“It’s ok, sweetheart,” Julian told me, gathering me up again. He only called me that during my most disastrous meltdowns. “I wish I could fix this for you. But I’ll be here for as long as you need. It might not feel like it, but it won’t hurt this much forever.”
As I got a little distance from the catastrophic event, I supposed he was right. It wasn’t as incapacitating. But it definitely wasn’t much better. I rearranged some of my duties and routines, but too often I still had to be in the same vicinity as Graham, and that rubbed my wounded heart raw every time.
At first, he acted like nothing had changed. Like he could just walk up to me and start chitchatting. And of course I couldn’t tell him that it felt like being sliced open for surgery without anesthesia. But I did start to get kind of angry when he didn’t take the hint.
“Hey Avery,” he said one day when he caught me on the path toward the command center.
I wasn’t rude enough to just walk on by, which is what I wanted to do, but when I stopped, I kept my voice brusquely professional. “Did you need something?”
“No, I just haven’t talked to you in a while. How are you?”
As if he had any right to ask me that question. I didn’t dignify it with an answer. “I need to get back to hear the field reports,” I said instead, turning again toward the building ahead.
“Avery, wait,” Graham insisted. I sighed and crossed my arms, clearly demonstrating my impatience to leave, but I spared him a glance.
“Just because we’re not sleeping together anymore, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” When I didn’t react, he went on, more earnest. “I still care about you. I’m still here for you.”
That drew a bitterly sarcastic response. “What’s your girlfriend going to think about you being here for your ex-whatever-I-am. Gay poly sex experiment.”
He seemed taken aback. “That — isn’t –”
I didn’t wait for him to finish whatever inane sentence that was going to be. “I have a history with Jade too, you know.”
“Yeah. She told me.” Probably she’d only told him how pitiful I’d been in comparison to him, but whatever.
“Yeah,” I concluded with finality, like I’d just played the trump card. “You wanted to be with her. So go be with her, and leave me out of it.”
I turned on my heel and walked away. Thankfully after that he gave up, so at least I didn’t have to worry about him trying to interact with me, unless we had to for work. Of course, that left me more hollow in its own way.
He and Julian actually did stay friends, which I didn’t really have an opinion about, as long as they didn’t talk about me. Julian and I didn’t really talk about Graham either, after those first few days. It was easiest that way: I didn’t want to hear about whatever he and the captain did together, and my partner surely wouldn’t want to hear that I was still a disaster zone inside. He’d been very understanding after it happened, but how long could he realistically be expected not to take it personally that I went to bed every night grieving over another man?
I kept waiting to feel different, but I didn’t. Whatever had been ripped open when Graham left my life was not healing. When Julian had dumped me, we’d only been apart for a week, so I had no idea what the expiration date on something like this was supposed to be. It seemed completely unreasonable that a person I’d only met five months ago could have this kind of hold over me. No one else ever had, other than my husband.
But Graham wasn’t like anyone else. There was far too much time to realize that, now — every gory detail of where I’d gone wrong and why he’d meant so much to me. Julian would always be my first, my deepest, and my most permanent attachment. His unfailing presence and quiet affection were the foundation of my world. But Graham had brought something different: levity where Julian was grave; brightness where Julian could be dark; ease where Julian had to be perfect. My partner had always been able to make me feel that addictive combination of powerless and safe. The captain made me feel that too, but he was equally as fearless giving up power as taking it. Plus he could make Julian feel safe as well, which I didn’t think I’d ever managed.
So the days went by and turned into weeks, and then a month. I slogged through my routine — working on whatever I was supposed to work on, dealing with whatever crises I was supposed to deal with, and going to bed when I was finally allowed to. I slept more than I used to, if community conditions allowed. Being unconscious was the only real break I got from the aching wound in my chest, which no one could see and I couldn’t talk about.
By the time December rolled around, the strain was starting to take a toll. We were entering the holiday season, and typically I enjoyed participating in the series of traditions leading up to the major celebration at the solstice. I’d still gone with Rowan and Lamont to help deck the main hall with evergreen garlands and holly, but I’d found no joy. If anything, going through the motions and not feeling anything was making me more unhappy. My friends could tell I was having a hard time, but they’d gotten nowhere trying to talk to me about it, so they supported me the best they could by just being there.
On the other hand, December had also been difficult for me ever since I lost my sister, since her birthday in the middle of the month always brought up the worst memories of the many desolate years that followed her death and my mother’s. When things weren’t going well, that sense of loss and loneliness tended to dominate the darkest point of the solar cycle. As for Julian, I could tell he was trying to be patient and trying to figure out how to help, but I’d grown so useless to him that he was starting to get frustrated.
When I got back to our quarters after decorating the hall, instead of letting me curl into a morose ball like he usually did, he lit one of my candles and invited me to lie closer to him. I stifled my sigh and went along with it, even though I had less than no interest in sex. I knew it wasn’t fair to my partner that we’d barely had any since Graham’s announcement, but that didn’t make me any more desirous. Everything felt wrong: the candle, which only reminded me of the fun we’d had with Vik and my shattered hopes with Graham; the room, which in my mind was still an uninhabitable bombed-out shell; and my body, which was equally gutted of anything approaching virility.
Julian tried anyway, kissing me until I couldn’t stand the sensation of his saliva on my lips and pushed him downward. He kissed more of me: my neck and hollow chest; my shredded gut and lifeless cock. His touch was more irritating than arousing, which I knew was all in my head, but that didn’t change my lack of response. After a few minutes, I moved his mouth away.
“I’m sorry,” I offered without feeling. “I’m just not in the mood, ok? I know it’s been a while, so I can suck you off if you want. Or you can just…get yourself off. I could leave, if that’s easier.”
There was a strained silence before he replied. “I don’t want you to leave, Avery. I don’t need to get off. I’m your husband; I want to be with you.”
“Sorry,” was my lame answer.
“I’ve been giving you space, quite a lot of space, but I think we should…talk about this.” He was propped on an elbow next to me, trapping me under his gaze.
“About what?” I came close to snapping.
“About the fact that it’s been more than a month and you’re still heartbroken, over someone who never made a commitment to you.”
I sat up and withdrew to my side of the bed. “There’s nothing to talk about. It won’t change anything.”
He sat up too. “It might. It might help you — and us — deal with this better.”
Stress was rising along with his insistence on digging up this most painful subject, betraying our tacit agreement to ignore it. “No it wouldn’t. And it’s not your problem to deal with.”
“It’s become my problem, given the extent to which it’s disrupted our relationship. How long do you expect me to go on like this, with a partner who barely speaks to me and never wants to be intimate?”
That sent a spike of alarm racing from brain to gut. Had I pushed it too far? Was he thinking about leaving me?
“Julian, what do you want me to do? I can’t make myself want sex. It’s physiological.”
“Well I can’t make myself ignore the fact that you seem much more interested in Graham than in me.”
The name and the accusation sliced like a knife. It took a moment for oxygen to reinflate my lungs. “You’re the one who always says that emotions are involuntary.”
Julian’s voice was colder and harder than I’d heard it in a long time. “They are, but how you choose to deal with them is completely voluntary.”
“I’m dealing with them the best I can,” I told him, angry now. “Do you think I want to be like this?”
“How would I know, when you won’t ever talk to me?” he retorted.
I couldn’t stay in this stifling room with the criticism and the choking memories. I climbed off the bed and threw on some clothes.
“Where are you going? It’s after eleven.”
“I need some air.” I shoved my feet into my boots and grabbed my jacket from its peg above the bench. “Don’t follow me.”
I shut the door with extra force and strode off at a rapid pace, not having any idea where I was headed, as long as it was away. I glanced behind me several times to make sure he wasn’t disobeying my order. Even though technically it was still autumn, the nights were nearly as long as they could get, and temperatures had been falling into the forties before sunrise. I pulled on my jacket out of habit, but the chilled air was a relief.
Without thinking about it, I found myself outside the main gate on the path toward the creek. I came out here sometimes when I got claustrophobic; there was something comforting about watching water flow by endlessly, never running out. Billions of stars sprinkled the gaps between towering columns of trees, and a mostly-round moon was riding high.
I must have been ranting to myself louder than I thought, because suddenly a voice called, “Avery?”
“Who’s there?” I asked, looking around, but I didn’t see anyone.
“It’s Gavin and Vik,” came the answer. “Over here on the bench.”
I followed the sound to one of the simple plank seats that had been built along the bank where people often liked to relax on warmer evenings. By the silver moonlight, I saw that my doctor friend and his partner were sitting in cozy proximity, with a quilt warding the chill from their legs. They both offered me a smile.
“Sorry. Didn’t know anyone was out here,” I told them, not sure whether I was annoyed that my rant had been interrupted.
“We were just doing a little impromptu galaxy-gazing,” Vik said, giving Gavin an adoring look that I normally would have found sweet, but right now rose bile in my stomach. “But what about you? Is something wrong?”
I could have lied, but Vik’s calm, compassionate tone was already making me not want to. “I don’t want to interrupt your night,” I shrugged.
Vik glanced at Gavin again and appeared satisfied with the response. “It’s no trouble. We can look at the stars anytime.” He held out a welcoming hand. “Why don’t you come sit with us?”
I took his suggestion and was immediately grateful both for the warmth of the blanket and for the companionship from someone who knew me well but had no expectations of me.
“Is Julian alright?” the doctor asked in his characteristic nonjudgmental way. Collecting data on my symptoms was the only way for him to diagnose my malady.
My lungs expelled a little too forcefully. “He’s at home. We were…arguing. I needed to get out.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vik said, sounding sincere, then turned to his partner again. “Honey, would you mind if I stayed and talked with Avery for a while?”
“Not at all,” Gavin replied, and they shared a brief saccharine kiss. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
Between Vik’s history with me and Julian, Gavin’s history with Julian before we got together, and the fact that Julian and I had set the two of them up, we had a tighter bond than most couples. Gavin was well aware of the details of Vik’s past involvement with us, and that at one point Vik had cared for me romantically. Both he and Julian understood that there was nothing between Vik and me now except friendship, and they didn’t mind our occasional intimate chats. Not that I really cared what Julian thought, at this particular moment.
“What’s going on?” Vik invited when his partner was out of earshot.
I let out another breath, this time slower. Vik was better informed than any of my circle about Graham’s role in my life; he was the first person I’d told when things started in July. It would have seemed weird, for him not to know I was hooking up with someone new. He was also my closest male friend who was into men, plus a great listener. Sometimes it was nice to have an outside person who could offer an informed perspective on my relationships.
I asked a question instead of answering. “When you were sleeping with me and Julian, and you…wanted more with me, but then you started seeing Gavin… How long did it take for you to…feel better about me?”
He gave me what was probably a sympathetic look, but I didn’t take my gaze from the faint glimmer of moonlight on water. “For me it was about a month. But Avery, every person and situation is different.” There was only the rustle of forest for a few seconds before his gentle voice resumed. “You still missing Graham?”
After all these weeks, finally I found the courage to admit the truth, though I didn’t manage much volume. “So much. Every day. Why isn’t it…getting easier by now? I haven’t even been around him.”
Vik shifted closer to put an arm across my back, and I shrank gratefully into the reassuring contact. “You lost a relationship with someone you really cared about. Sometimes it just takes time. Sometimes it takes being able to accept that it wasn’t meant to be.”
My wounded chest didn’t like that answer. If it wasn’t meant to be, I’d have to survive without Graham’s smoky kisses and sunny affection, forever. Vik was right. Deep down, I hadn’t truly accepted that.
“Is Julian upset that you still care for Graham?” the doctor asked.
“He’s upset that I haven’t…wanted to be with him, lately. For sex or…anything else.”
“I’d have thought you’d have needed his support now more than ever.”
When he put it that way, I understood for the first time the actual reason I’d been pushing Julian away. “It doesn’t seem like I can tell him. How I really feel. I don’t want him to be…hurt.”
Vik hugged my shoulders empathetically for a moment. “He loves you very deeply, Avery. As a person, not just as his spouse. And I know how much you love him. I would imagine the odds are pretty high that he’s more hurt by your lack of communication than by anything you might say. There’s nothing the two of you can’t figure out, if you’re honest about what you need.”
I breathed the crisp night air for a minute and let that sink in. It was the only thing that had made sense in too long. Probably should have come to Vik about this sooner. It was lucky I ran into him.
“Thank you,” I told him. “That actually helps.”
“I’m glad.” He released my shoulders but stayed at my side. “May I ask — does Graham know how you feel?”
“I don’t think so. Unless he figured it out when I stopped speaking to him.”
“Have you thought about telling him?”
I shook my head. “You’ve seen him with Jade. They’re happy together. He doesn’t –” I braced myself and forced out the words despite how sharply they cut. “He doesn’t want to be with me. Otherwise he would be. He’s the one who left.”
“It’s possible that he doesn’t know you’re available, isn’t it? You weren’t when I was involved.”
“He’s not exactly shy. If he wanted it, he would have brought it up, like you did. I’m not going to humiliate myself by telling him I’m still hung up on him, just based on the extremely remote chance that he’d suddenly want to break up with his girlfriend and rejoin my marriage.”
“I see,” Vik conceded. There was another short silence while the creek made its slow journey toward the distant coast.
“By the way, if what you went through with me was anything like this, then I’m really sorry. It fucking sucks.”
His reply was generous, as always. “I don’t think my case was as severe as yours, and you certainly weren’t at fault. But that’s sweet of you to say.” He paused briefly before offering more advice. “Try not to put too much pressure on yourself, ok? Whatever is supposed to happen will happen. And let your husband take care of you. It’s what he’s there for.”
“Even if what’s wrong is that I’m broken up about another guy?”
“Especially then, if you want your marriage to last.”
“Of course I do,” I answered automatically.
“Julian probably needs to hear that from you,” Vik suggested. “Think about how you would feel, if he were behaving the way you have been.”
I did think about it. Shit. Hastily I undocked from his shoulder. “I should get back.”
He smiled and gathered up the quilt. “I’ll walk with you.”
* * * * *
Julian:
Avery was gone long enough that I’d cycled through pacing, staring at the door, and pretending I might be able to sleep. All I’d actually accomplished was replaying the awful evening over and over, switching to slow motion for my harshest moments. I was debating whether I should get up and go look for him despite his prohibition, just to make sure he wasn’t injured and stranded somewhere, when I finally heard the door unlatch.
I figured he would bundle silently under the covers the way he had been lately, and I would have to settle for knowing he was alive and in the same room. But to my extreme relief he came to me, prompting my arm to wind around him and laying his head at my shoulder. His bare skin against mine was the balm my adrenaline-struck system had been desperately craving.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could properly detail my contrition, he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Julian. For not talking to you.” His words were barely loud enough to hear, too fragile to be shared further than my ears, and for once stripped of the defensive anger that had marked our interactions these past weeks. “This has just been…really hard for me. A lot harder than I realized was possible, and I…haven’t known how to handle it. I thought if I kept it to myself, it would go away eventually. But it’s not.”
I caressed his arm with careful tenderness, as if it were his cracked and battered heart under my hand. Because in a sense, it was.
“I hate seeing you suffer, Avery,” I confessed quietly in my turn. “I didn’t mean to push you. It’s just –” Terrifying sounded in my brain, but I modulated. “Worrying, that you seem to need someone else more than you need me.”
Avery’s head shook against my shoulder. “I don’t. I get why it would look like that, and I’m really sorry. I was trying not to put this on you. I didn’t want you to know…how bad it was. And I think…I didn’t want to accept how bad it was, either.” His palm rested atop my own overworked heart, as if he could communicate to it directly, and his tone grew even more intimate. “But I need you. Always. Nothing has changed that. No one else ever will change that. Please don’t worry.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, overwhelmed by the release of the black fear that had haunted more heavily with each day of silence: That Avery’s attachment to me had merely been a bridge to a better match, with someone more whole and less inhibited. That I would lose my husband to a man I couldn’t even fault for it.
“I don’t want you to feel you have to hide anything from me,” I whispered. “No matter what it is. I only want you to be happy, and I don’t know how to provide support when you shut me out.”
It was quiet for the space of a breath, then at last Avery confided what he’d been trying to shelter us both from. “I don’t understand why it feels like this, when I love you so much and you’re so good to me. It’s not like I was missing anything, before.” He took another minute to find the final words, and the depth of raw pain infusing them left an ache in my chest. “I’m just…so sad. And I don’t know when it’s going to stop.”
Now that I was sure of where we stood, his confession didn’t make me afraid, or jealous, or bitter. I only felt intense compassion for this precious boy and the innocent, tender emotions he shared with me and didn’t know how to recover from Graham.
I hugged Avery a little closer and caressed his curls. “It’s ok that you’re sad, babe. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will. And if nothing helps, that’s still ok. I’ll just be here with you.”
He kept a long breath captive in his lungs, and then I heard the telltale muted gasps that suggested he was fighting tears.
“You want me to read to you?” I offered gently. He usually found that to be a comforting activity — a way to be close to me and occupy his mind, without needing to do anything except rest and listen.
His voice was thicker when he answered. “If you read to me, I’ll just cry.”
“That’s alright.” My palm made soothing strokes across his shoulder blades. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you cry.”
His hand moved to cover his face, and now he was definitely choking on tears. “I haven’t so far.”
There was nothing I could really do except hold him and lend my reassurance. “We’ll get through this, love,” I murmured into his hair. “I promise.”
He wept against my chest for a while — not the violent, tempestuous sobs from October, but a quieter, more pure form of grief. Reflections from the time we’d spent with Graham drifted across the lens of my memory. I recalled how instinctively he’d nurtured Avery’s emotional security, and mine. How explosive the sexual chemistry had been. How right it had felt to fall asleep with him in our bed, the captain guarding the left flank as I guarded the right: a third anchor point to create the strongest of all shapes. A glimpse of something uniquely durable and harmonious that Avery and I would never be able to achieve with just the two of us. Or, most likely, with anyone else.
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.