Sunday, January 23rd
Ronan
I woke up in pain this morning. My knee, which had been feeling better and better lately, was hot and swollen. I knew I had overdone it yesterday, pushed myself way too hard when I helped my grandfather and Thomas corral some calves. I was already pretty sore, but it wasn’t until Colin accidentally left the gate to the large corral open and several young bulls escaped that I actually hurt myself.
We were scrambling, trying to corner the bulls when one charged at me and knocked me off my feet, causing me to land in a giant puddle of mud and tweak my right knee in a way that caused the edges of my vision to go black. It hurt so badly that I was only able to get up with the help of both Thomas and my grandfather. My grandpa insisted on calling his doctor, who met my grandfather and me at the small hospital in Redtail Ridge to examine my knee. Luckily nothing’s broken, and the hardware that holds my kneecap together appears to be intact, but my knee is nonetheless pretty angry.
I’ve been icing the shit out of it, stubbornly refusing to go back to using crutches, which had been the bane of my existence for way too long. I’ve been taking it easy all morning, resting as much as possible, while my grandmother has been doting on me.
It’s one o’clock on the dot when I limp into the kitchen to retrieve the phone and dial my dad’s number. I usually get our calls over with as quickly as possible so I can talk to Cat, but I’m even more impatient today after our failed phone rendezvous last weekend and the lackluster conversation we had the Sunday before. My inability to speak with Cat has left me feeling wired, my nerves frayed with the perceived instability and chaos in my life. Cat has always had the strange ability to calm the waters for me simply by being present. She’s my anchor, my stabilizer, and I’m utterly adrift without her.
“Ran?” my dad answers the phone, his voice tight. “Athair called me last night. How’s your knee?”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly.
He chuffs into the phone. “Ran, please,” he says, his deep voice an impatient growl, perfectly aware that I just did what I always do—I placate people, give them the response I think they want, but not actually the truth. It’s partially related to the way I was raised by my mother. I’ve learned to suppress most everything deeper than “fine.” Sadness wasn’t tolerated, and neither were anger or even happiness. I either got punished or taken down a peg.
“Okay, it hurts,” I say. “I’ve been icing it though and keeping it elevated. I’m sure it’ll be okay in a few days, I just moved it wrong.”
“Yeah, it sounded like you took a pretty nasty fall yesterday. Ran, I want you to be careful.”
“I am, Dad, I promise. It’s not like I decided to take a spill on purpose to test out how sturdy the plate in my knee is. Trust me, the last thing I want is to drag this shit out longer than necessary. I wish things were back to normal. I miss… everything,” I sigh.
He’s silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath in. “I hate to make things worse, but I have some bad news, bud,” he says. “Onyx is gone.”
I don’t immediately comprehend, but a piercing pain in my chest tells me Onyx didn’t run away. “What? What do you mean she’s gone?” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“She wasn’t doing well after you left. She wasn’t eating and just slept on your bed all the time. At first I thought she just missed you, but she lost a bunch of weight so quickly. I took her to the vet yesterday. She was very sick, Ran, and in a lot of pain. The vet thought the most humane thing to do was to put her to sleep and not let her suffer.”
I have no idea how to respond, what to say. We got Onyx when I was only six. She was originally supposed to be a bomb-sniffing dog for the military but wasn’t found to have a suitable temperament—she got too distracted by people, didn’t focus on the task at hand, seeking head scratches instead—so my dad brought her home with him. My mom wasn’t enchanted by the idea at all, and Steve and I took over caring for Onyx pretty much right away, with most of the responsibility falling squarely on my shoulders. This eventually led to Onyx viewing me as her main person, and I could always count on her to comfort me when things were bad at home, which happened more and more frequently as I got older. Of course, I knew she wouldn’t be around forever, but I’d be lying if I said I was expecting this news from my dad today.
“I’m sorry, Ran,” my dad says when I don’t speak after a good minute of silence. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” It takes significant effort to keep my voice from cracking, to ignore the tightness in my chest like a rhino decided to take a seat on my rib cage.
“Listen, I don’t want to keep you on the phone. You could probably really use hearing Cat’s voice right now. I’ll let you get off with me so you can call her.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, swallowing hard.
“Check in with me next week and give your knee some rest. Please, buddy. Take it easy. You’re in Montana to heal.”
“Okay. I will,” I say, and we end our conversation.
Like every Sunday, my heart rate quickens as I dial Cat’s number. I’m eager to hear her voice, like it’s a drug hitting my bloodstream. I can’t wait for the fix. I send a silent prayer that she answers today. I need her. So desperately.
“Hi sweet boy,” Cat greets me after only one ring.
I exhale audibly, shutting my eyes as my body comes to rest. Thank God. “Hey baby,” I say, unable to hide the heaviness in my voice.
“Aww, Ran, did you just talk to your dad?” I can tell she already knows about Onyx by the inflection in her voice.
“Uh-huh,” I sigh. “Do you know about Onyx?”
“Yeah. Stevie told us yesterday. I’m so sorry,” she says sweetly. I register the sound of her closing the door to her room.
“Yeah, me too.” I sigh as I lean back on my bed, letting my head hit my pillow.
“What do you need from me, Ran? What can I do?”
“I don’t really know.” Right now, I really have no clue what I need other than to maybe go to sleep and pretend the last five months didn’t actually happen. “Maybe just talk to me about anything.” I let my eyes fall shut.
“Okay.” She thinks for a few seconds, then begins to talk about her previous day, how she went ice skating with my brother and Shane. As always, her voice is soothing to my soul, and I relax, the tension leaving my shoulders as she tells me all about how she’s been trying to improve her skating skills.
A smile breaks across my face at the realization that she’s been practicing regularly with Shane and Steve. I swear, she slowly but surely manages to bring the color back into my life when everything had just been gray tones these past few months.
“So, uh, maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you this,” she says, her voice timid and suddenly tinged with shyness, “but I… I was able to get some relief last night…”
Immediately it clicks for me—her bashfulness, the breathy voice so recognizable to me—and my eyes fly open.
“Baby, I… Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” I’m already getting worked up by her words and the images that instantaneously appear in my mind of Cat touching herself.
“What do you think it is I’m telling you?” Her voice is a soft whimper, which does nothing at all to alleviate the want building inside me at a dizzying pace.
“Did you… did you touch yourself last night?” I try hard not to be too forward, just in case this isn’t actually what she’s talking about, though I’m almost certain I hit the nail on the head.
“Uh-huh,” she moans softly.
I swear my blood drains from my head straight to my cock, making me go rock-hard in seconds as I picture Cat giving herself pleasure.
“Okay,” I say and swallow hard, closing my eyes again. “Do you feel comfortable telling me about it?” Fuck, I hope she says yes.
“I… I think so.”
I suffocate a needy growl before it can escape my chest. “Baby, I don’t want to pressure you.” I open my eyes, hoping the visual input will detract from the pressure of my dick straining against my jeans. “You can tell me or not tell me, it’s completely up to you.” I reach into my boxers and adjust myself. Jeans and hard-ons are not a great combination.
“I just did what you suggested I do; I touched myself the way I want you to touch me; I pretended my hands were your hands…” she breathes. I let my eyes fall shut once more, both my breathing and my heart rate picking up as I imagine running my hands all over her soft body. “And I got so worked up, Ran… I got so… wet.”
I say nothing at all, listening to her intently. I’m afraid if I interject she’ll change course, will reconsider telling me about what she did last night, or even just change the tone of her voice, which is so damn sexy right now. “I just kept touching myself, trying to make it feel like it does when you touch me. I couldn’t make it feel exactly the same,” she says in a low voice. “The way you touch me is just… it’s perfect. But I felt the buildup like I do with you, so I just kept going until…”
“Until?” Try as I might, I can’t conceal the want in my voice, which dips lower with the image of her perfect face contorting with pleasure.
“Until I came,” she says breathily.
God, fuck.
“I wish it was me doing that to you,” I groan. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”
“God, Ran, I think about you all the time. I miss you—all of you. I miss… I miss feeling you,” she says timidly.
I smile. We haven’t felt each other like that many times since we met—only three times, actually—and I love that Cat fantasizes about us, that she has wet dreams, that she wants me. Of all the guys this girl could have, she chose me—chooses me still, despite how broken I am.
“Don’t even get me started,” I say with a small chuckle. “You have no idea how many times a day you cross my mind. You’re my absolute favorite thing to think about.”
“So, are you going to have to take care of the issue tonight?” Cat teases me and giggles.
I laugh. “Sweet of you to think I have enough willpower to make it until tonight. This is going to get taken care of as soon as we get off the phone.” I stretch, trying to relieve the sexual tension gripping my muscles.
“Oh,” she says, a little flustered.
I smile imagining her flushed cheeks. No matter how often I touch her, how many times we have sex, how frequently our phone conversations turn to steamy subjects, she still has this shy side to her, while also knowing exactly what to say and do to give me a raging hard-on. It’s hugely surprising and an even bigger turn-on.
“Sorry, I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” I say, still mindful of moving at her pace.
“No. I’m just wondering why you have to wait until we get off the phone.”
Holy shit.
My cock jerks in my jeans with an aching throb. “Um, what do you mean?”
“You could just take care of it right now, Ran. With me on the phone.” Her voice is low and so, so sexy. Fuck.
“Jesus, baby,” I groan. I’m so damn turned on right now that I actually consider her request. “Are you sure you’d want that?”
Her breath comes quick and shallow through the phone. “Yeah, I do,” she says. “If I can’t touch and feel you, I’d want to at least be as close as I can while you make yourself feel good,” she breathes. “Please?”
“Okay.” I get up and make my way to my door to lock it. “This is a new one for me.”
I’m nervous for some reason. I’ve never shared this with anyone. I’ve never gotten myself off with someone watching or listening in. It feels exceptionally intimate and really fucking vulnerable.
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Ran,” Cat says, the tone of her voice, the way she breathes into the phone, only compounding the sexual tension in my body.
“Do you want me to, though?” I ask, sitting back on my bed.
“Yes, I do,” she says quietly. “Are you nervous?”
“Actually, yeah,” I say, unbuttoning my jeans and freeing my hard-on from the constraints of my boxers.
“Just… pretend it’s my hands touching you,” she says.
So, I do. “Tell me how you touched yourself last night,” I groan quietly as I lie back against my pillow, already working myself, fisting my hard length tightly. I move slowly at first, tugging, stroking myself, my breathing labored, eyes shut as I focus on her voice and my hand on my cock.
Cat tells me in the most intimate detail how she explored her body the previous night, describing how it felt, how her body responded, how she got herself worked up until she reached the edge, then stepped over it only to be consumed by the high. God, her descriptions, the way she lowers her voice, the random breathy moans here and there, and just my sheer ability to picture her in my mind’s eye, to recall the softness of her skin underneath me, the way she feels when I touch her, her smell, how her body moves, get me to the brink quickly. I increase my pace, pumping my left fist with quick, shallow strokes, breathing hard as I ride that perfect edge.
I can feel it—the climax building deep in my core, my stomach tightening, locked and fucking loaded like I’m a ticking bomb ready to explode with pleasure. I tighten my fist still, mimicking how Cat feels to me, and I’m so god damn close.
“God, Ran, I wish I could feel you come,” Cat moans.
It’s all I need, and I crest, my body tensing and releasing with each wave of ecstasy as the hot streams of my powerful climax cover my hand, stomach, and upper thighs. Holy hell. I knew I was pent up, but damn, what a fucking a mess. I wasn’t expecting to come this hard. I should’ve known though. Everything’s just different with Cat, including, apparently, masturbation.
“Jesus Christ, that was different,” I groan, coming down from the high, my heart rate regulating as I get control of my breathing.
“Good different or bad different?” Cat asks with a giggle.
I chuckle. “Really-fucking-good different.” I grab some tissue—a lot of tissue—to clean myself up.
“I loved it, Ran,” she says, very obviously pleased to have made me come over the phone. That was definitely a first for me. I love experiencing firsts with Cat.
“Me, too. I wasn’t so sure about this in the beginning, but your voice is a huge turn-on.”
“I… You don’t know how happy that makes me,” she says, sounding shy again.
“You honestly surprise me, baby.” I get up from my bed, button my jeans, then throw the tissue into my trashcan. “At first glance, you come across as so… innocent and shy, but then you do shit like this.” I chuckle. “I get the feeling you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Ran, just because I hadn’t had sex before I met you doesn’t mean I don’t have urges and fantasies,” Cat says a little defensively.
It makes me laugh. “I’m not saying that at all. I just mean that you don’t usually share those with me. I really wish you did because honestly, Cat, it’s really hot when you do.”
“Really?”
“God, fuck yes. You have no idea how much of a turn-on it is when you talk like that; when you tell me you touched yourself, when you tell me what you want and how you want it… that you want… me. You have no idea.”
I walk to my dresser and pull out a fresh shirt to change into because the one I’m wearing didn’t come away unscathed from our little adventure a few minutes ago. I’m going to have to start a load of laundry. No way am I going to let my grandmother handle this. I might as well wash my sheets, too.
“You never told me,” Cat says.
I laugh. “I didn’t think I needed to. I thought my body made it clear the effect you have on me, baby.”
“Certain parts of your body definitely do,” she giggles.
“God, baby, I love you so much. Thank you for being you and for choosing me,” I sigh, relieved not just by the release of the pent-up sexual tension inside me, but also our talk today and how much more normal things feel than they had the last two weeks.
“Thank you for choosing me.” She sighs in return. “I love you, Ran. I miss you.”
“I miss you, baby.”
I move about, taking my sheets and shirt downstairs with the phone still to my ear. My grandmother gives me a quizzical look when she makes to take the laundry from me, but I just move around her and shove my things in the washing machine.
Cat and I spend the remaining few minutes with her catching me up on Vada’s status. When my grandma gently reminds me that my time to talk is up and Cat and I end our call, I feel decidedly more at ease than I had these past fourteen days.