38. Christian

38

CHRISTIAN

G ibson doesn’t answer my question, instead once again asking me how I’m feeling. I give him a flat stare. I stopped throwing up last night once the Dramamine kicked in and made it all the way through breakfast and a game of chess with Drew without a single wave of nausea. He’s in the middle of the woods with tears on his fucking shirt, and he wants to know how I’m feeling?

“Did Ollie say something shitty?”

He wipes his face and shakes his head. “No. Nothing like that. I just…”

I rub his upper arm, trying to be patient and let him tell me in his own time, even though I want to reach down his throat and pull the words out myself.

“It’s pathetic. I just started feeling bad.”

“A, you’re not pathetic, and B, what were you guys talking about?”

“Marianne,” he says darkly, making me instantly uneasy.

Is this guilt? It sure as fuck feels like it. I would know.

I take my hand back and start fiddling with my necklace, trying to look at anything but him, but the fog is so thick, he’s all I can see besides the log we’re on, which I’m not sure is stable enough to hold two men.

“I don’t know if I realized how fucked up my marriage is,” he says.

“No?” I’m not sure I buy that, or whether it’s the whole truth. He didn’t necessarily shy away from the topic when it first came up, but he didn’t sound proud of it either. I know he’s not happy. We’ve talked about that more than once.

“I mean, I worry about her a lot—all the time—but this has gone on for years, not changing…” He takes a deep ragged breath that seems to require every muscle in his body. “Am I selfish for wondering whether she’s worried about me at all?”

“No,” I say. “It’s not selfish. And for the record, I worry about you plenty, in case you thought no one does. Why is this coming up now?”

He gives me a searing look with his dark, bloodshot eyes. “Because I know you do.”

I’m still confused, but I want to give him a chance to say what’s on his mind without putting the words I want to hear in his mouth.

“And you barely fucking know me,” he adds.

“I bet I know you better than she does,” I mumble and immediately wish I could take it back. It’s not my place, and there’s no way it could possibly be true.

“You’re right,” he whispers. He lifts his shirt to wipe his face, and I notice his abs in all their tanned glory from being shirtless on a sailboat all afternoon yesterday.

Now’s not the time, obviously, but I’ll keep the image on the back burner.

“I was crying,” he says, stating the incredibly obvious.

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“It felt weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“Can it be both?” he asks .

“It can be anything,” I tell him.

“What is it for you?”

“Cathartic,” I say.

“I’m not sure I’m at catharsis yet.”

Taking a chance, I lean forward and wrap my arms around him. He turns slightly to press our chests together and hold me close. “How did you find me?”

“Ollie said you turned off the driveway, and there were actually footprints.”

“Okay, Davy Crockett.”

I laugh. “Thank you for answering when I called you. I would have gone a whole other direction. We might have to wait for the fog to burn off to find our way back out.”

I sigh, relaxing against him. “I don’t mind waiting.”

As we part slightly to look at each other, our weights shift, and the log chooses that moment to collapse.

We shout in surprise as the place we’re sitting caves in. My legs go in two different directions, and he tucks my head to his chest as he lands on top of me.

“Fuck,” I grunt at the impact, digging my heels into the earth so I don’t split my pants, or my groin.

“This day is going fucking amazing,” he grumbles, righting us and brushing me off. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah.” He pulls us clear of the log and then sort of gives up in general and rolls onto the forest floor, flat on his back, facing the treetops. I try to wipe off his pants legs, but there’s no point since he’s literally lying in dirt.

I scoot closer to sit near his hip with my legs bent, facing him. Wrapping my arms around my shins, I prop my chin on my knees. “Sometimes I feel like one of the things we have in common is we’re both chasing memories of someone who no longer exists.”

He sighs, and it sounds like an agreement .

“Even when Trinity was alive, I couldn’t have her. She wouldn’t let herself have me either. But she also couldn’t let me go. I’m not saying I get what you’re going through, or what it’s been like to watch your wife move on the way she has, but I know what it’s like to have what you want right in front of you and not be allowed to touch her. Or help her.”

“Marianne doesn’t want my help. Or me. But I know you get it. As well as anyone could.”

“I get you, too. Why you stay. And I don’t think it’s pathetic. Or weak. Or whatever other shitty thing you want to say about yourself for being in love with someone. She doesn’t deserve it, though.” Or you.

He wraps a hand around my calf and squeezes. “I wonder what I deserve.”

“Maybe that’s not the best way to frame it. If we always went for what we think we deserve we’d all wind up dating serial abusers.”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re dark.”

“It’s accurate.”

We’re quiet a while, listening to the birds sing, and the leaves rustle in the breeze. The sun moves higher in the sky, and visibility gradually improves around us. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Gibson asks, still lying there like a corpse.

“Fireworks tonight. Until then… I think it’s more or less a free for all.”

“Good. I’m in a terrible mood.”

“You want me to leave you here to wallow in the mud?”

“No,” he laughs. “Don’t go. Wallow with me a little longer.”

“If we’re gonna wallow, wouldn’t you rather do that after a shower on clean sheets?”

“I don’t hate being lost in the woods with you.”

“We better not be lost,” I say, taking another look around. “I didn’t bring my water.”

“Come here with that smart mouth. ”

Fuck it. What’s a little more dirt? I move to straddle his hips, put my hands on either side of his head, and lower my face to hover above his. “What?” I ask.

He lifts his head to nip at my chin before he bites down on my lower lip and tugs my mouth to his. We kiss briefly at first, and then, after another long look into each other’s eyes, we come together with something I can only describe as frantic passion.

His hands run the length of my torso, and I shove mine up his shirt, feeling those abs I got a glimpse of earlier. Finally, he sits up, trapping me in his lap between his knees and his chest. I let him pull off my shirt, hold me by the ribcage and suck my nipples while I hiss and groan because there aren’t many things that feel as good as his warm open mouth anywhere on my body.

“I can’t believe you asked me if I like this,” he whispers, moving from one side to the other.

I bite my lip and let my head drop back. “Sometimes you look uncomfortable.”

“I just haven’t stretched you out enough. We’ll get there.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” But still, I shut my eyes and imagine the possibilities. My jeans are too tight for my dick to be this hard.

He palms the length of it. “What do you need, baby?”

“I don’t care,” I tell him. “Whatever you want.”

“Shove these down and show me that tiny hole.”

I get my fly open in a hurry and rise to my knees to push my jeans past my hips. He repositions us, putting me on all fours while he unzips behind me. “You don’t happen to have any lube on you, do you?” he asks.

“No,” but fuck . I lower myself to my elbows in the hopes of making my ass even more tempting. He might not be able to get his cock into it, but he can do something .

Anything.

I hear him spit and feel the warmth dripping into my hole. His tongue is quick to follow, spearing me with a sharp stretch. “ Fuck yeah,” I grunt, pressing my forehead against my forearms as a rush of pleasure floods me.

Between slurping sucks and wet licks, he says, “Baby, if you come for me, I’ll use your load to fuck you with.”

Oh my God.

Shifting my weight onto one elbow, I reach down to stroke my erection while he goes back to tongue-fucking my hole. The filth of it and the promise of more has me lit up, turned on, and on fire. The added possibility of fucking like wild animals in the woods taps into something primal in my brain, and I let all pretense of decency go.

“That’s it,” I pant, urging him on. “Fuck me with that fat tongue. Feels so fucking good.”

His growl is feral as he grabs my ass cheeks and stuffs his face in my crack. Swirling licks around my rim followed up by flickering probes of his tongue double the pleasure on every tug of my dick.

“You like this pussy?” I ask.

“Fuck, yes, baby, I love this pussy.”

“I want you to fuck it.”

“I’m fucking dying to.”

“I want you to fuck it hard ,” I whine, jerking myself faster, getting so close.

“Give me what I need,” he says before eating out my hole again. “All that juicy, thick cum.”

My cock throbs. Picturing what he plans to do with me manifests my orgasm. The wave of release lights me up, and I’m consumed.

“I’m coming—I—oh fuck—” It’s explosive, ravaging me to my core.

His hand moves between my legs and covers the head of my cock. I burst with an indecent cry, and he catches what he can in his hand while I do my best to pump more out despite the way it aggravates my overstimulated nerves .

He sinks his teeth into my ass as I fill his palm, but only once I’m wobbling on my knees and can’t bear to touch myself anymore, does he take what I gave him and rise behind me. I watch his shadow on the ground as he covers his cock in my cum, positions his crown, and breaches my entrance.

“ Unf … fuck … yes .”

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand it, but this is exactly what I asked for. Using each other in order to use each other more. Between my cum and his saliva, I’m wet enough for him to slide in and out with relative ease. He sets a fast, pounding pace, and it’s all I can do to keep my face from hitting the dirt. I’m ninety-five percent successful.

“God damn you feel so fucking good, Christian. You take me exactly the way I fucking deserve.”

I love that. Love that he said it. Not sure I believe it, but it’s gold, and I’ll keep it.

Each thrust is a combination of him shoving into me and pulling me back at the same time. It’s punishing and rough, like he’s trying to prove a point, and I’m here to take the lesson.

“This is the best you’ve ever looked, baby. On your knees in the dirt for me. All fucking mine .”

He’s making me hard again. There’s no way he could fuck me that would be anything less than perfect, but this is unparalleled. I love being stretched and filled by him. There’s no better feeling. It’s a sharp edge of bliss and agony, and I’d do anything to keep it.

I know he thinks I’m pretty, but he doesn’t treat me like I’m delicate. At least not when he’s as out of his mind with lust as I am.

“Baby, I’m gonna come. Fuck .” His words tumble out on a rush of air, and no sooner are they out of his mouth than I feel his heat in my ass—the extra later of slick he unleashes and continues to stroke through as his dick throbs and unloads gush after hot gush inside me. It’s so illicitly good, my semi goes rock hard.

Exhausted, and full, I still reach for it again, but the grit and dirt on my hand make my own touch miserable. I finally let my face hit the ground, the cool earth meeting my flushed cheek.

He pulls out slowly, and his cum drips down my balls.

His tongue meets my flesh as he cleans me up. “Christ,” I breathe into the ground. “ Gibson …”

“ Mmm …how do I get enough of you?”

“You don’t stop,” I whisper.

He moans again, like I’m the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. Like the taste of us together is the closest he’s ever come to heaven on earth.

When he sucks my balls, he must notice the new tautness of the skin, and he makes a sympathetic noise. He rolls me onto my back and immediately takes my cock down his throat, applying deep, powerful suction. I arch off the forest floor and come again with no warning, my nerves sparking—fucking firecrackers burst behind my eyelids—beneath my skin.

What makes this not just good sex, but great sex is the feeling that comes over me when he glances up to assess my face. Gluttonous lust.

I could do it all over again.