CHAPTER 9
Bruno
brADFORD : Brendan and I are all packed and ready for the trek over there. See you within the hour!
Bradford’s text comes just as I’m switching on the aircon in the bedroom. I’ve already got the one on in the lounge room, because the temperature outside is rising fast. Spring stuck around for a long time last year—things were pretty mild, even in December. Now, the late arrival of summer means we’re still paying the price in March.
brUNO: Hang on a minute, you’re not walking here are you? It’ll take you forever and it’s gonna be a bloody hot day.
brADFORD: Relax, Harry. It’s only ten a.m. and it’s not gonna hit the high temps till this afternoon. Plus, Google tells me your place is only forty-one minutes’ walk from mine.
I love that he’s using the little nickname he gave me. ‘Harry’ and ‘Blinky’ may have started as a silly joke on that first night we fucked, but it wasn’t long before the cutesy monikers kind of crept into our banter here and there.
brUNO: If you or Brendan get too hot or tired or anything at all, you make sure you call me, OK? I’ll be right there.
I’m embarrassed to admit that we’ve been rooting each other for like, a month and a half, and Bradford has never been to my place. The kinda ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ arrangement that my Brendan and I had together made it impossible to bring hookups here to the apartment. But if I was to put myself in Bradford’s shoes, the fact that I’ve never invited him over could easily make him think I’m just screwing around behind my partner’s back. I would hate it if he ever got that impression of me.
Brendan and I gave it a really good shot before we admitted we weren’t happy sexually. At the time, deciding to open the relationship seemed like the best way to move forward. I never publicised it beyond my closest friends—I’ve found that outside of other gay men, very few people seem to understand. Most of them are too busy having secret affairs while they tell the world they’re in a happy monogamous marriage.
I did talk about it all with Gabriela, though. Obviously, as twins, we’ve always been thick as thieves. There was no way I would have been able to keep my situation with Brendan a secret from her. In any case, she’s no cishet conservative; she’s like a gay man trapped in a woman’s body. Her camp sense of humour and raucous theatrics are much more drag queen than middle-aged mum.
So, I’m hoping to clear the air with Bradford when he arrives today. I’ve whipped him up a huge salad and antipasto platter for lunch. I’ve also bought four-legged Brendan a big rawhide chew bone—something I hope keeps him occupied while I fuck the hell out of his owner. I’m in a particularly cock-horny mood and I’ve been craving that hot little manhole of Bradford’s for days now.
Me and my hard dick are standing in front of the open fridge, trying to decide whether to take the antipasto platter out, when I hear a discreet little buzz in the hallway. It’s so polite, so very Bradford. And he’s really prompt—he definitely didn’t dawdle on the way here.
I slide the platter back onto the shelf it came from, then shut the fridge and scurry out to the intercom next to the front door. “Hey, sexy! I’ll come down and show you the way.” I wince as soon as I’ve said it. I’m such a fucking clumsy dickhead. When it comes to Bradford, I have no idea how to offer help without looking like I’m patronising him.
“Nah, that’s OK—I’ll be able to find you no worries. Thanks, though.”
I can hear the cheery smile in Bradford’s voice. He’s like this all the time. Sweet and upbeat and eager to please, as if he’s lucky I’m paying him attention. If only he knew how much I’ve come to rely on the kind of happiness I feel when I’m around him.
“Gee, it’s nice in here,” says Bradford, as I bustle him and four-legged Brendan into the hallway. Bradford looks super hot, in both senses of the word. Of course, he’s sexy as fuck. But I suspect the walk was a little more taxing in the heat than he’d bargained for. Brendan, for one, is panting like a trouper. Before Bradford does anything else, he stretches up to kiss me. It’s long and soft and gentle, and a synergistic sense of relief crackles between us. God, this little bloke knows exactly how to make me feel like priority number one.
“As much as I wanna ravage you, I think you’d both better come in and cool off first.” My lips buzz against Bradford’s as I speak and he gives the tiniest little grunt, enough to let me know he’d have preferred more. I hold my hand out for Bradford’s backpack, which he passes to me before squatting down to undo Brendan’s harness. I size up the heavy bag. “What on earth have you got in here?”
Bradford chuckles as he stands up and takes it back from me. “Standard baby bag. Everything I need to keep a bored labrador occupied.” He looks around him. “Are you gonna give me the grand tour?”
“Ah, there’s not much to see. The bathroom and laundry are back here.” I point to the end door. “This is the bedroom here.” I show him the doorway in front of me and Bradford pokes his head inside. “And if you follow me, I’ll take you through to the lounge room and kitchen.”
“Is this a one bedroom place?” asks Bradford, as he follows me into the lounge. He’s sounding chirpy and friendly, not suspicious or judgemental, but I still can’t stop myself cringing.
“Uh, kind of.” I show him through to the small study. “Brendan use—” I stop myself saying ‘used to’ just in time, covering it up with a little cough. “Brendan usually sleeps in here, but as you can see, it’s not really a room, just an alcove . ”
“Oh, right.” Bradford seems mildly surprised. “I… um… didn’t realise you two were kind of like Jarrod and me.”
I look at him for a moment, trying to work out what he’s referring to, but there's no obvious parallel here. There’s certainly no way he could be referring to the emotional abuse I’m sure he’s being subjected to. He’s always been a bit vague around the topic, but I'm hardly surprised. People in his situation are embarrassed. They feel like they’re at least partly responsible. I’d love it if Bradford opened up to me; I could offer him so much support. But, other than listening openly and somehow letting him know I’m on his side no matter what, all I can do is wait patiently till he feels comfortable enough to share.
Bradford smiles weakly at my pregnant pause; at my baffled expression. “I haven’t really had a chance to tell you this, but there was a bit of an ugly confrontation and I was sort of… uh… banished to the spare room on a permanent basis.”
My hackles are immediately raised. “What the fuck? Are you OK?” I reflexively look him over, hoping and praying there are no physical marks.
Bradford notices and his hand shoots to his cheek. I’ve never seen someone look so mortified. “No, nothing like that. Jarrod’s just a bit of a prick. There’s never been anything physical.”
It’s my turn to look mortified now. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Bradford. I didn’t mean to—” I cut myself off. There’s nothing I can add here that will make my assumption look any better. Hauling him into my arms, I pull him tight against me and kiss his sweaty brow. I love how short he is. I feel so powerful, so protective when I hold him like this. “And to answer your question, no. Brendan and I have been lucky in a way. The relationship just kind of morphed.” I glance over Bradford’s shoulder at the neatly-pfaffed day bed. My partner is impeccably tidy. It’s one of the things that’s always helped us get along so well. Got along, Bruno. Past tense, remember? “He’s a bit of a night owl and generally crashes in here. Occasionally, I might wake up and he’s in bed next to me.”
This is starting to make me squirm. Bradford deserves to know at least some of what’s happening here, but I’m not sure how far to go with it. Before I can open my mouth again, he breaks our embrace with a smile and slides his backpack off. Unzipping it, he pulls out a plastic disc and some kind of folded canvas thing. “Do you mind if I fill this?” He pops out the plastic disc and it turns into a dog bowl.
“Oh, God! Yeah, of course.” I look down at four-legged Brendan, patiently waiting as I’ve been waffling on about my domestic situation.
“That all sounds a bit stressful for you,” says Bradford as he follows me through to the kitchen. “I mean, you never really know where you stand, do you? At least I have a spare room to move into. It kind of gives me a boundary that Jarrod can’t cross. We’ve gone from sharing like a couple to living like flatmates.” Bradford looks up at me as he’s filling the bowl in the sink. “I’ve still ended up vacating the living room whenever he’s been around, though.” He seems resigned. Beaten. I wish I could do something to help him.
“Bradford…” I falter, almost choking on my words. He’s looking at me attentively, eyebrows slightly raised. “I’m so sorry I’ve never had you over here. I swear it’s not how it looks. Brendan and I are like brothers. We’re not physically involved, and we are open. He really does have more than his fair share of sex with other guys. It’s just…” How the hell do I explain this? “We agreed that we wouldn’t tell each other any details about our hookups and fuckbuddies, if that makes sense.”
I really want to tell Bradford about the separation, but I don’t think I can bring myself to do it. It’s all too early in the piece, and Bradford has enough to cope with. If I mention I’m going to be single again, he might feel pressured into making a decision he’s not ready for, and I don’t want to stress him out. Even though it’s only been a whirlwind six weeks, I don’t want to lose what we have together. If all we’re ever going to be is fuckbuddies, I’ll take it. Hands down, I will.
I decide to just give him the necessary details. “Brendan’s taken off to house-sit in Surry Hills for the rest of March and most of April. I would have mentioned it, but he only told me a few days ago. It all sounds a bit suspicious, I know.”
“Why?” Bradford seems genuinely confused.
“It looks like I’m just inviting you around because he’s gone away. But Bradford—” I cup his face in my hands and stare into his stormy eyes. “He does know about you.” Bloody hell, I’m making a right dog’s breakfast of this . “I mean, I’ve told him I’m, um… seeing a guy on a casual basis.”
Bradford grabs my hands, pulling them from his cheeks and placing a gentle kiss on each one. He looks up at me earnestly. “Bru, I believe you. I know this isn’t an easy situation. I’m just glad we’ll be able to spend more time together.”
“We will, Blinky . You got my word on that.”
With a bashful little grin, Bradford turns away and retrieves the canvas item he brought with him. “Well, Harry , I’m in danger of ripping off those clothes you’re wearing, so I’m going to have to take care of this right now.” He undoes a valve and starts inflating what turns out to be some kind of dog mat. With his colossal opera-singer lungs, he has it pumped up in no time. Placing it on the carpet, he whistles to Brendan, who dutifully lies down on it.
“Gee, you certainly do come prepared.” I grin over at Bradford, who’s fishing out a packet of dog treats from his bag. “Oh—I got your little mate a present.” Darting over to the kitchen counter, I retrieve the rawhide bone I bought and hand it to the handsome lab. I swear his face lights up as he immediately clamps his jaws over it.
“Wow, buddy, aren’t you lucky? What do you say to Bruno?” Brendan doesn’t even look up when Bradford speaks, but his tail thumps repeatedly against the dog bed in acknowledgement.
I catch Bradford’s gaze. He’s been smiling at me, observing the way I was beaming down at his dog. Bradford looks at me like this often. It speaks volumes, but it never fails to send a jolt of pain through my heart. It’s because of what's written all over his face. Loud and clear, his expression says: I can’t believe there’s someone who’s being this nice to me.
There’s so much I want to tell him. I want him to know how much lighter my life seems since he came into it. I want him to know how his positive energy works its way into every aspect of my existence; every day there just seems so much more to be happy about. I want to tell him how he’s made me feel truly hot for the first time in years: like I’m not just a big cock, I’m not just a bear who’s sexy enough for one fuck and that’s it. I am a man who deserves to be appreciated completely. I’m a man who deserves the same kind of unadulterated affection and sexual worship that I freely give out. I thought I was done. I thought this kind of confidence was gone for the rest of my life, but Bradford and his generous heart brought it all back to me.
For now, though, I’m not going to open my big fat trap. This isn’t the time and place. I can't say I’m too worried—I’m pretty certain it’ll soon be all over with that arsehole boyfriend of his. Now that they’re in separate bedrooms, the countdown has begun. I’ll be there for Bradford when they split. I’ll wait until that precious heart of his is mended, and then he’ll see that I’m worth taking on.
This is my fantasy. I know it hasn’t been long. I know Brendan and I have only just agreed to break up. But I need to believe, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.
I’m riled up now. I grab Bradford by the shoulders, steer him around and push him against the wall. Yanking the hem of his t-shirt, I pull it straight over his head and bury my face in his armpit. “Oh, Jesus fuck, ” I moan as the fresh scent of his musk invades my nostrils. Without conscious thought, my thumb finds its way to his right nipple and begins to stroke the tip of it. Bradford’s immediate whine makes me vacate the heady pleasure of his hairy pit so I can latch my lips onto his other nipple. I’m an expert at this now. He likes it sucked fast and light, he loves my tongue darting over the end of his little teat, he goes crazy when I gently flick it against my teeth as I feed on him. I can feel his arm moving slightly and I know exactly what he’s doing. It’s like his pre-masturbation technique—he’s just running his fingers over his knob, jiggling the hot little PA ring. God, I’m so envious of the mileage he gets out of that thing. If I wasn't such a wimp with pain, I’d have one of them too.
All this thought of Bradford’s dick has me grabbing at the lower edge of his little jogging shorts. With one sharp tug they’re down. I’m fully expecting underwear, but Bradford's hard cock springs straight out, slapping against his abdomen. Glancing at the fabric now pooled at his ankles, I see they’re those kind of running shorts that are so skimpy they have the briefs sewn into them. “Jesus, Bradford! You and your slutty pants… you are so fucking hot. ” I’m on my knees in an instant. Grabbing his penis and holding it upwards, I bury my nose in his sweaty balls and breathe deep. “ Fu-u-u-u-ck ,” I half-laugh, half-whimper. “How do you smell this good?”
Bradford’s panting, his hands running over my scalp, stroking it with reverence. “ Harry ,” he chokes out. “ Your scent is so bloody hot it turns me into a filthy, desperate whore.”
“I fuckin’ love it when you talk like that,” I growl, swinging him around and flinging him onto the couch. It takes less than two seconds to have his legs pushed high in the air, his arsehole fully exposed and my nose and lips grinding right against it. “Jeeeesus… and I love your hairy cunt.”
“You’re so dirty,” Bradford giggles, his hips squirming as I rub my face in even more vigorously.
Oh, I can do much worse than that. “Dirty? What? Because I’m turned on by this hot little shitter?”
Bradford laughs so hard his arse thwacks against my chin. “ ‘Shitter’ ? You’ve been watching far too much porn.”
I slather my tongue broadly across his taut pucker. “Nah, porn’s total bullshit. I learnt it all from magazines like Honcho and Bear and Inches. ”
“Really? God, I haven’t seen one of those since the nineties.”
“They were my staple wank diet all through my late teens and twenties. Those stories in them were fucking filthy. I’d work my dick into a frenzy reading them and then flick over the pages to a hot naked bear when I was about to come.” I push the tip of my tongue just inside his ring, teasing it open slightly, then move my head back to admire the view. “Preferably a man in the same position you’re in right now. Legs over your shoulders, showing me your cock and balls and cute hole.”
Bradford’s dick stiffens, flexing against his belly at my description. “Tell me more.”
His lusty tone makes me chuckle. “And here I’ve been, dying to get as nasty with you as possible, but holding back because you’re so sweet and lovely.”
“Sweet and lovely? No bloody way!” Bradford chortles as I grin up at his face, my lips so close to his hole that it’s brushing against me with every joyous little laugh. “Haven’t you noticed how I worship every hotspot on your furry body? I’ve practically taken up residence in your crotch.”
“Oh? So you’re telling me after all this time that you’re super fuckin’ kinky?”
“Um, maybe.” He sounds all coy. “I’d say I’m… ‘vanilla bear with extras.’”
I slide a finger into his tight little back passage, making him grunt. “And what exactly does ‘vanilla bear with extras’ mean, Bradford?”
“You know, like all the bear stuff I do with you, and even a bit kinkier. But no whips or chains. No cock cages, no nipple clamps, no bossing me around.”
“Hmm. This is getting interesting.” My stiff prick is still all cooped up in my thin shorts and underwear, and I rub it against the edge of the couch as I push up Bradford’s legs a bit further. His finger is jiggling against the ring in his knob, making his dick leak visibly. “So… ‘even a bit kinkier’, you reckon? What else does that involve?”
Breaking into a smug grin, Bradford wraps his hand around his girth and begins to stroke. “Let’s chug down a few beers and you’ll see what a pig I can be.”
My shaft tenses hard and I grind my knob into the couch again. “Watersports? You’re driving me up the fucking wall! So I’m guessing you have a thing for boots and sweaty jockstraps too, then?”
“Actually, I prefer your tighty-whities, Bru. Something that spends all day nestled between your arse cheeks. Haven’t you noticed I stole a pair from you last week?”
“Oh, I wondered where they went. You filthy little bastard.”
Bradford looks pleased as punch with my assessment. “Yep. I pilfered them from your pile of dirty clothes.”
“And how were they?”
“Not musky enough,” he chirps. “I want you to wear them for a lot longer.”
“Right. That’s it. ” I spread Bradford’s legs wider and scooch around a bit. Just as I’m thrusting my tongue into his hole again, I spot four-legged Brendan out of the corner of my eye. “Uh, do you think he minds?” I jerk my head in the direction of the labrador, who’s still wholly absorbed in his rawhide bone.
“Nah. He’s facing the other way. But we’d probably be more comfortable in your bed, you reckon?”
That’s all the encouragement I need. “Come on.” I’m up on my feet straight away, ripping off my clothes and tossing them aside. Bradford stays there with his legs in the air and watches me. Slowly and deliberately, he pulls his arse cheeks wide apart and slips a finger inside his little brown hole. The cheeky grin on his face brings out the animal in me, and I grab his hand and yank him off the couch with urgency. Clasping his shoulders with one of my big paws, I try and steer him in front of me, but he ducks and moves behind instead.
“You first,” he says. “I want to watch your arse while you walk.” Aware of his eyes boring into my buttocks, I puff up like a peacock. I’m thrilled that he likes my hairy bum. He shuffles up close to me as I reach the hallway. Immediately, I feel fingers sliding into my arse crack, hitting my bullseye and rubbing insistently. Bradford just can’t leave my arse alone. After countless years of men who only ever wanted me to fuck them, it’s a refreshing change. In fact, I’m well and truly addicted to the amount of anal attention he lavishes on me.
The bedroom is dark with the blinds drawn. I’m far too anxious to be all over Bradford to bother going and tackling them, but I still want the best view possible. Climbing onto the mattress, I bend right over and reach out to switch on the bedside table lamp. I feel Bradford’s face slam right into my arse and he rubs his beard and nose and moustache around vigorously. “Jesus, you’re perfect,” he growls, before he jams his tongue right up my arsehole. Fuck, it’s fast becoming my favourite thing. Resting on my shoulder with my face buried sideways on the mattress, I reach down and roll my nipple piercing between my fingers. My other hand finds its way straight to my cock. I breathe a sigh of relief as the familiar pleasure causes my erectile muscles to throb. Pulling my foreskin back, I wrap my thumb and forefinger just below my knob and pulse hard. Bradford is going at my arse like a lion at a carcass, grunting and thrashing and poking his tongue in as deep as it can go. I could easily start flogging my dick. Just a tiny shift of my hand and I’d fall straight into the pattern I’ve been using all my life. And I would come so fucking hard and fast. Any other time, I wouldn’t be able to resist it. But today, I need to be inside his hot arse. I need to feel his muscly little ring strangling my rigid prick. I need those blond furry buns of his slapping against my groin with every thrust I send up his fucktunnel. I need to hear him scream.
Just when I’m about to scoot out from under him, Bradford’s fingers slide inside my hole. I’m sure there are two; the stretch is so fucking good. And they are straight onto my prostate, carefully strumming it as he twists and pistons them up and down. My hole tightens over and over. It’s intense. Exquisitely intense. I can’t believe the things this man can do. I can’t believe I’ve been drifting blindly through life without experiencing this kind of utter fucking bliss.
I’m moaning hard. I don’t even consciously realise it at first, but the second I do, I flip over and tackle Bradford to the bed face-down. “You are not gonna make me shoot my load just yet, mate,” I snarl. “Your arse needs a good hard pounding first.”
Bradford turns his head and I can see the side of his grin. His teeth are showing and his right eye is twinkling and I just want to devour the little bastard. “You won’t get any complaints from me,” he coos, and thrusts his arse upwards.
I can’t wait a moment longer. My cock is so hard it’s sore as fuck. I collapse onto his back, stretch over to the bedside table, and grab the lube, pumping it manically into my hand. I’m getting it everywhere, but I don’t give a flying fuck. So long as it’s all over my dick and his hole, we’re set.
Bradford backs up onto my fingers as soon as I start rubbing his little pucker. He’s rutting against me, whining, desperately trying to consume my hand with his arse. God, I wonder how many digits I could get up there? My cock throbs hard, reminding me it needs attention. Slipping my fingers from Bradford’s wet hole, I position my knob against it.
Bradford’s hand reaches around and grabs my hip, yanking me towards him. “I need it, Bruno,” he pants. “Please. Now.”
I try to be gentle, gradually applying pressure. But Bradford bucks his backside against my cock the same way he did with my fingers. Only this time, he does it with the force of a fucking rhino . Every inch of me drives right through his hot little browneye, plunging me straight into heaven.
“YES!” he yells. “Oh God, yes!”
Obviously, he’s not hurt. He’s made his desires pretty clear, so I don’t waste a second. My fat Italian schlong needs friction right fucking now , and his arse is gonna cop it sweet. Straight away, I begin to ram into him. Fast, furious and hard as I can. And Bradford cries. Ecstatic moaning sobs rumble up from deep within his chest. I see him fumbling for the bottle of lube, then he drops his top half onto the mattress and reaches underneath himself to rub his cock. I fucking love it when he does that. I look sideways into the mirrored wardrobe. Angling myself slightly, I can see my thick inches sliding in and out, disappearing between his chunky butt cheeks. And I can see his hand moving up and down his rock-hard shaft, rubbing firmly over his knob in that beautiful way he does it.
Jesus, fuck , I’m not going to last. By the sounds of it, neither is Bradford. He looks so hot there on the bed, this dirty little bearslut with his fuckin’ beautiful arse thrust right up, greedily seeking whatever pleasure I can give it. I gather more speed. Faster, harder. I’m clutching onto his hips, walloping them against my groin as I jam my cock up him. My butt muscles are burning in the best way. My cock feels like it’s gonna burst. Bradford’s manhole is so fiery, so wet, so muscular.
“Harder!” he wails.
“Harder what ?” I growl.
“Harder, please ,” he whines. His arm is speeding up underneath him.
“No. What do you want me to do harder ?” I’m gonna get this little fucker to show me how filthy he can be if it’s the last thing I do.
“Pound me,” he whimpers.
I slow down my thrusts, grinning like a wolf. I know he can’t see me; his face is ground into the bed. But this is fucking fun. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, mate.”
Bradford groans, bucking his hips back onto my cock. “ Fuck me!” he hollers. “Fuck me hard!”
Jesus, I love hearing that language coming out of his polite little mouth. With a roar, I pick up the pace, but I’m not giving it my all just yet. “Fuck you hard where ?”
“Unnnnngh!” he chokes. “My arse ! Fuck my arse !”
“Nup, not good enough.” I stop dead in my tracks and Bradford bellows in protest. He’s panting hard. His arsehole is squeezing my dick and I really want to fuck it into oblivion. I can’t resist pulling out and slamming into him just one more time. That’s all it takes for Bradford to get the hint.
“Fuuuck!” he screams. “My CUNT! Fuck my fuckin’ hairy CUNT!”
Oh, my fucking GOD. The filthy way he says it pushes me over the edge. I batter that fucking little cunt as viciously as I can while Bradford shrieks at the top of his lungs. “Fuck, I’m gonna come!” he howls. A strangled, high-pitched caterwaul makes its way out of his throat and I feel his sphincter seizing up like a garrote. Oh, Jesus, fuck me sideways with a chainsaw. I can barely stand it. I’m going to explode. This is gonna be a deluge.
My knees tremble as my cock reaches its painful zenith. I’m bellowing as loud as I can. My arsehole clenches hard, my balls draw up tight, and almighty relief surges forth as I send my load shooting deep inside him. It’s utterly fucking divine. I linger there a moment, relishing the last waves of my climax. I’ve driven a fucking torrent of come up his beautiful mancunt and I have never felt quite so powerful, so masculine, so bloody invincible . This little bear has raised me up so high. He’s given me new hope. He’s given me a new lease on life.
A wave of emotion overtakes me and I lower myself onto him, kissing the back of his neck. I feel like I could cry, but I’m saved from embarrassment when Bradford giggles and wiggles his arse underneath me. “Did I do good?” he says.
“You did fucking incredible ,” I croon into his ear. “You were dirty as fuck, and you gave me the best dickgasm I’ve had in I don’t know how long.”
“Dickgasm? You mean as opposed to an arsegasm?”
“Well, yeah. Those are different.” I sniff deeply across the back of his head, taking in the scent of his sweat. “You send me to the bloody moon when you fuck my arse.”
Bradford chuckles. “Where do you think I’ve just come back from? My hole has never been so well serviced.” He wiggles his hips again. “And I would really love it if your dick stayed inside there a bit longer.”
“Well, it depends. I made lunch. And it’s all totally vego.”
Bradford cranes his head around, turning his body underneath me. My cock slips out of his warm arse as he moves, and I miss it instantly. He’s staring up into my eyes. Genuine surprise is written all over his face, and it claws at my chest. “You did that for me?”
My God. He doesn’t think he’s worth it? I run my hand down his cheek, cupping his beard. “Of course. You’ve cooked for me loads of times, it was the least I could do.”
We shuffle onto our sides and lie there quietly face-to face, our hands lazily roaming the fur on each other’s chests and arms. The world is silent, bar the low hum of the air conditioner. I’m spent and sated, my muscles sighing with relief as they sink into the mattress. My rounded belly is ergonomically pressed against Bradford’s, allowing my back to straighten and relax completely. It’s a bear thing—we’re built for this sort of comfort.
From time to time, Bradford smiles up at me. The bashfulness of his expression warms my heart with its earnest glimpses of joy. I need to see him like this all the time. I worry so much about what’s going on behind closed doors at his place.
“Are things really OK, Bradford? I mean, with Jarrod?” My thoughts just slip out as words. I probably should feel mortified, but to my surprise, I’m not. Maybe we’re at the point now where this line of questioning is fine.
“Um, yeah. I guess we’ve reached a kind of stalemate for now. That whole showdown we had at the weekend was really stressful, but I spent the day setting myself up in the spare room and I realise I’m much happier with my own space. I feel like I can avoid him more easily now.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.” Of course, Bradford’s safety is something I worry about and it puts my mind at rest to know he’s taken this step. But I want so much more for him. I want to tell Bradford how I really feel. I want to spill my guts, appeal to him, beg him to give me a chance. I’m not going to do it, though; it isn’t fair to him.
Taking a breath and burying those feelings as deep down as I can, I let just a sliver of them escape. “You deserve to be happy, Bradford. You deserve the world.”
And one day, I’m gonna give it to you.