Chapter 29
Kyle
Now
Iwait patiently for Bren to process my words, my whole body shaking with the weight of my confession. Myriad emotions pass over his face, but he does not take his eyes off mine.
“Ky, why are you doing this to me?” he finally asks, voice trembling.
I reach for him once again, but this time he doesn’t stop me, my hand coming to rest on the curve of his neck.
His skin is soft and warm, and I whimper at the touch, stroking my thumb across his jawline.
Bren hesitantly places a hand over my racing heart, his expression almost fearful.
Moving slowly, I slip my hand around to the back of his neck, threading my fingers through his brown locks.
Still with no sign of resistance, I pull him to me, our foreheads gently connecting.
His breath fans enticingly over my lips, and our noses brush.
The faint familiar smell of cigarettes fills my lungs, flooding my body with memories of youthful stolen kisses.
Need and want rises as my control begins to slip away.
Our lips are dangerously close, our breaths falling into sync as we fight the inevitable.
I know this cannot be my choice; it must be Bren’s.
Placing one hand on his hip, I squeeze in encouragement. “I want you Bren. Please… I need you.”
He draws in a ragged breath then closes the distance, pressing his lips hard against my mouth. There, he holds. Fighting it.
My entire body shakes. I’m afraid he will retreat, but I open just a little, kissing him back, giving him the slightest hint of tongue. He moans, a strange mix of pain and fear and lustful need, so I envelop him in my arms, crushing my body to his.
Then he’s kissing me back, his tongue pushing eagerly into my mouth.
Blood rushes to my cock as I tug at his clothes, my arousal wild and untameable.
Bren grabs the hem of my T-shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it off.
My skin is on fucking fire. I wrangle his off too, our naked chests coming back together, mouths consuming, hands clawing at needy flesh.
I pop the button on Bren’s jeans and have the zip halfway down when his hand slips into my trackpants and wraps tightly around my cock. “Fuck, Bren, I need you,” I pant against his mouth, torn between ridding him of his jeans and fucking up into his hand.
Both pursuits are abandoned when he shoves me hard onto the floor and strips me naked. Clambering up onto my knees, I drag Bren down onto his back and return the favour.
His cock is as mouth-watering as I remember—thick and weighty, with gorgeous veins and heavy balls below. He’s already wet for me and I still for a moment, in awe of his body. It’s muscular and strong, with defined biceps and sculpted pecs.
I get my first real look at the tattoos he’s added to his chest and arms since we were young. There are quotes in cursive and intricate symbols, all beautifully entwined to convey the story of his life. The glimpse I’d had in his office that day didn’t do justice to the art adorning Bren’s body.
The skin where my name used to be is the only place that remains bare, and my heart skips at what that could mean.
“Ky, fuck me. Please, fuck me,” Bren pleads.
He spreads his legs open, circling his finger teasingly around his rim.
I kneel between his thighs, delaying my desire to taste him, opting instead to settle my weight over him, bringing us chest-to-chest. I kiss him slowly and deeply, humming with satisfaction.
Our cocks rub together, Bren’s hands sinking into the muscles of my ass.
This man, willing and bare under me, is no longer just a fantasy, but flesh and blood, and more than I could have ever hoped for.
Breaking the kiss to suck on two fingers, I push them inside Bren while I circle his nipple with the tip of my tongue. He’s tight; so much tighter than I remember. “You okay?” I ask. “Am I hurting you?”
“Keep going. Jesus Ky, feels so good.”
Pulling my fingers out, I push Bren’s knees back, giving me a better look at his smooth, sweet hole. “Nobody has an ass like yours.” I spread him open and dip my tongue inside a few times, then spit on his entrance.
When I push inside, he moans obscenely, stroking his own cock. I bottom out, breathless at the warmth and tightness of his body. It’s all happening so fast my brain can’t keep up. Bren reaches for me, dragging my body to him, and our mouths connect.
Then it dawns on me. I’m actually inside Brendan. My Bren. After enduring all those years without him.
I roll my hips, thrusting with a long, purposeful stroke. His body pulls me in, the caressing heat flooding my veins with mind-blowing pleasure. I thrust again, long buried emotions rising too quickly, then something inside me just…breaks.
It hits hard, emerging from some hidden place I never even knew was there.
It’s as though someone has taken a hacksaw to my ribcage and split me wide open.
I’m exposed and raw, my fractured heart savagely on display.
A guttural cry tears from my chest, and I begin to sob.
Gut-wrenching cries that I haven’t the strength to battle, let alone beat.
I stop moving.
Bren looks at me in horror. “Ky? Kyle? What’s wrong?”
I soften inside Bren and still the tears won’t stop.
It’s twenty years of loss, regret, and grief pouring out of me.
Twenty years of denial and stuffing it down deep inside—all too fucking horrible to face.
It’s every bad choice I’ve ever made, every second I’ve suffered in silence in a God-awful marriage, and every year I’ve missed being with the one man I truly love.
His arms circle around my back and pull me in tight, so I bury my face in the crook of his neck. Bren cries too, silent tears that I wouldn’t know about bar the quivering of his chest.
Endless minutes pass before I find the strength to lift my head and look at him. “I’m sorry, Bren. I’m so fucking sorry.” I don’t mean just for this moment, but for all the past hurt, and I think he understands.
“Ky, it’s okay. I’m sorry too.” Bren brushes the tears from my cheeks. “Shh, shh, I’m here. I’m here.”
“Please don’t leave. Stay with me. Just for tonight. Please, just stay.”
He pulls me back into his arms. “I will. I’ll figure it out.”
We remain on the floor, Bren caressing my back until my breathing settles and the shudders subside. When I finally sit up, embarrassment flushes my cheeks, but Bren’s eyes are red-rimmed too. He gazes back at me, concern etched into his face, then cups my jaw and presses his lips to mine.
“We’ve got time. It’s okay,” he assures me before standing and locating his boxers and T-shirt. I follow suit and slip mine on too.
“Do you want to lie on the sofa for a while? I can get us a blanket.” I head out of the room without waiting for an answer, grabbing a blanket from the linen closet then a box of tissues from the bathroom. When I return, Bren is on a call, facing the window with his back to me.
“Yeah, he’s really sick, Chris. I think whatever shit he took was laced with somethin’. There’s no way I can leave him alone tonight.”
Bren’s head drops while he listens to Chris’s response.
“Yeah, that’s what I think, too. He’s a fuckwit. I’ll stay here tonight and keep an eye on him. I’ll see you in the mornin’ for breakfast unless I have to take him to the hospital.”
More silence. I place the tissue box on the coffee table, take a couple and blow my nose as quietly as possible.
“Thanks for understanding. Love you too. Bye.”
When Bren turns around, his eyes drop to the floor, guilt all over his face. Guilt for lying to Chris or guilt for being overheard, I can’t be sure. I push my jealousy aside because what right do I have?
I motion for Bren to join me on the large chaise lounge, which is the size of a double bed. He blows his nose and then settles under the blanket, folding into my arms like it’s second nature. Our bodies have matured, yet Bren still slots perfectly under my arm, his head nestled under my chin.
Everything feels different now, as if we can never be the men we were before. To me, this doesn’t feel like cheating because I stopped loving James many years ago, but for Bren, I know it’s a different matter.
“Whose house are you supposed to be at?” I ask.
“Steve’s. I said he came down to the pub and took a hit of somethin’ bad.”
I’m surprised Bren’s still in frequent enough contact with another of Bruce’s foster kids to use him as a cover story. They’d never really gotten along, and Steve was only there for three years, but perhaps they’re bonded in some way.
“I’m sorry you had to lie for me.”
Bren shifts uncomfortably. “Not lyin’ for you, I’m lyin’ for me. And I’ve been doin’ a lot of that lately. Well, maybe longer than just lately, if I’m bein’ honest.”
Bren relaxes his weight against me, then throws his leg over mine, the familiarity of the action calming me.
“Ky, you know this can only be one night, right?” Bren squeezes my hand. “We should talk and face our past, then say our goodbyes the right way this time. But that’s all this can be.”
I kiss his forehead, my lips lingering. “I know. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m leaving James. I’d rather be on my own if I can’t be with you. I’ll wait for you, even if it’s forever.”
Bren presses a kiss to my collarbone. “Don’t say that. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I won’t be. I have Lu, and I’m doing my damnedest to repair my relationships with my siblings.”
“I’m glad you have Lu. I—I sometimes think of Ethan. You know, wonder how he’s doing. I hope he’s happy.”
“Why don’t you contact him?”
“Cos I fucked it up and by the time I got outta prison it seemed too late. The kid was always better off without me.”
“Hey, that’s not true. Bren, look at me.” Bren twists his body to face me. “I know you never wanted Ethan, and that’s fair. But you learned to love him, and any kid would be lucky to have you as their dad.”
“Sometimes I think I only loved him cos you did. You treated him like he was our son, of our flesh and blood, and that made me see him, you know, separate from”—Bren drops his eyes—"from the fucked-up way he came into this world.”
We’ve never spoken about this. When we were boys, we were unable to face the truth of it, so it sat between us, a festering and neglected wound. I turn away, old pain welling up.
“Hey, did I say somethin’ wrong? I’m sorry.” Bren gently presses his thumb to my chin and turns my face back to him.
“It’s me that needs to apologise for causing all that shit in your life,” I say.
“I always wanted more because I loved you so much, but I was a dumb fucking teenager who only cared about myself. That very first night we had together was everything to me. After that, everything went to shit. I didn’t protect you, Bren, so what does that say about me? ”
“Ky, we were just kids, and Bruce beat the shit out of us. I’m glad you didn’t try any stupid shit because you might’ve ended up dead.
That motherfucker probably would’ve forced me to bury you myself.
None of it was your fault and none of it was mine.
That’s what I realised tonight when I saw those two boys. Bruce fucked up both our lives.”
“But Bren, he forced Tiffany on you as a punishment for being with me! It was sexual coercion. You were basically forced to have sex with her.”
“No no no it—it… Fuck!” Bren shakes his head.
“I allowed it to happen. I went along with it. I did what I needed to do to survive. To protect us both.” He sucks in a deep breath, his face paling.
“He pushed me to have sex with Tiffany because he couldn’t accept that I was gay.
Then I shut you out because I felt bad. I was ashamed of being gay.
I don’t think you understood how much lovin’ you scared the shit out of me in the beginning. ”
I pull Bren into a hug, stroking his back and kissing his hair. It’s good to finally talk about it and pull it out from the shadows.
“I wish I hadn’t pushed you away after that,” Bren continues. “I wish I hadn’t treated you like that.” He pulls back, hands coming to my face. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to apologise for.
Back then I didn’t understand you were sexually coerced.
It just felt like you cheated on me. And now I can’t understand why I ever thought that.
Bruce threatened our lives, and there I was, feeling jealous and betrayed.
Somehow, I thought you enjoyed fucking her.
It took me years in therapy to understand the trauma you went through that day.
That we went through. How you kept going after that…
I mean fucking hell, Bren. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and I’ll forever be sorry that I didn’t know how to help you.
I just wanted you to love me.” My eyes fill with tears again.
“And then the pregnancy and you deciding to marry her.”
Bren brushes the hair back from my forehead, fighting tears of his own.
“Ky, it felt like my life was over and I could never be free to love you. I still think about that first night when we fucked in missionary and slept in the same bed. It felt so right. I felt so safe in your arms.”
Bren smiles, eyes soft and warm and I feel myself falling even more deeply in love.
“It was overwhelming to finally be able to look at you, all flushed and breathless for me. And I had the best sleep that night, holding you close.” Bren’s eighteen-year-old face flashes before me—vivid and strikingly beautiful and I couldn’t be more thankful for this chance to heal.