Chapter 32 #2
“Me too,” Oliver says, pulling carefully out of my body then lifting me back up into his arms. Once on the couch and in Oliver’s lap, I guide his shaft back inside me.
Our eyes are level like this, my arms around his neck, and his, possessively around my back.
It’s exactly what I need—the intimacy, the closeness.
His breath pouring into me, his lips and love giving me life.
I rock slowly, enjoying the friction on my cock pressed tightly between us.
Oliver’s fingers wind into my curls and he gently tugs, pulling away to meet my gaze. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide. I feel love drunk, lost in this moment, the feeling of Oliver inside me overriding all else.
I trace the sharp line of his jaw, then dance my fingers over his swollen lips. I place kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and one to each eyelid. Oliver whimpers. “I love you so much.”
He pulls me impossibly closer, hands squeezing into my flesh. “I love you, too, my angel.”
I ride Oliver until we shatter. An explosion of pleasure rocks me to my core. Oliver moans my name over and over again as he comes inside me, claiming me. We were made for each other; of that, I am sure.
I lose myself in Oliver’s gaze as he peppers delicate kisses to my heated skin. His eyes drift up to my hair, and he smiles. I can only imagine how wild my curls are. He sinks his fingers into my scalp and massages. With my eyes falling closed, I mumble, “So perfect.”
“You’re perfect.”
I smile, knowing that whatever happens at school, I’ll be okay.
When I wake, Oliver isn’t beside me. I bolt upright, realising from the bright room that it must be late morning. I lift my phone—11:00 AM! “Oli,” I call out. “Babe?”
Oliver’s face appears in the doorway, followed by Louis and Cazaly. “You’re awake. I think I wore you out last night.”
I relax back against the pillow, thoughts of our 3:00 AM round two making me smile.
Oliver had woken me, begging to make love, and how can a man say no to that level of romance?
It was tender and sweet and made my toes curl.
“You did, but in the best possible way. Aren’t we supposed to be at work? Why didn’t you wake me?”
Oliver comes in and sits on the edge of the bed, his hand squeezing my thigh through the doona. “You needed the sleep after yesterday. I called in and said we were both sick.”
“So our plan is just to hide and pretend none of this is happening?”
Oliver kisses my temple then smiles. “Today it is. It’s a self-care day. We’re going to binge watch something, eat comfort food, and take the dogs for a walk. I’m not opposed to mutual blowies, either.”
I laugh, wondering how I got this lucky. “I’m open to everything on that list. Can you pass me your hoodie?” I point to the hoodie Oliver was wearing last night, laying over the footboard bench.
He passes it to me, and I promptly put it on. I breathe in Oliver’s scent and endorphins instantly follow. Exactly what I need.
The rest of the day we spend in our little bubble, recovering before the fight ahead. In the evening, I call Maddie to chat while Oliver calls Koa. We retire early to bed, knowing tomorrow we have a lot to discuss and decisions to make.
By late Sunday afternoon, I’m feeling a lot stronger.
We'd made a list of potential law firms to contact that specialise in discrimination cases, and even more importantly, we’d agreed on a plan for Monday.
We’ll meet Williams before morning classes and advise him that we’re not only in a committed relationship but will be retaining legal counsel to handle matters moving forward.
If legal advice looks bleak, we will simply start looking for other employment—life is too short to live like this.
Having returned from a long dog walk, we collapse on the couch and turn on the TV, settling on the news after forty-eight hours of ignoring the world.
“Hey, I think I might make a coffee.” Oliver rises. “Do you want something?”
I’m about to reply when I see a news reporter on the telly, standing in front of Brighton Grammar. “Hey look, that’s…” I fumble for the remote, hastily trying to turn the volume up. We freeze as the news reporter speaks.
“Sources tell us there is trouble brewing at the prestigious Brighton College, a Christian private school here in the wealthy beachside suburb.
We can exclusively reveal that a gay maths teacher has been ordered by the principal, a Mr. Richard Williams, to remove any and all pride merchandise from his classroom.
Homophobia is also running rife amongst the student body, with teens getting away with the use of offensive homophobic language towards staff and their peers without any consequences.
“You may ask yourself, how is this still happening in Australia in 2026? I will continue to monitor this story and keep you updated on what my investigation uncovers. Kasey Mills reporting, Channel 9 news.”
Mouths agape, we turn and stare at each other. “What the fuck just happened?”
“I-I don’t know,” Oliver splutters.
It takes about two minutes until I’m spiralling my ass off. “What if this just makes it worse?” I say, frantically rocking myself in Oliver’s armchair.
“I know it’s scary. But try not to think like that. This could be exactly what we need. The school won’t want bad press.”
“But Williams will think we did this. He might fire us first thing tomorrow morning before we even tell him we’re together.” The pitch of my voice continues to climb as I unravel.
Oliver pulls me into a hug, stroking my back in soothing circles.
“He won’t because that would prove he is acting homophobically.
To fire us now would be the worst thing he could do.
It’s okay. They haven’t released your name and if the reporter finds out it’s you, then I’ll make sure she knows the name of your boyfriend, too.
If we end up facing the cameras, we’ll do it together. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, feeling anything but.