Chapter 8 – David
I never meant to say ‘I love you’ like that, and now I’m not sure what I should do.
So I just lie there, on Richard’s chest. Not moving.
What the hell am I supposed to say? They’re not words I can take back.
Hell, they’re words that I’ve wanted to say for a long time.
It seems almost poetic that the words rushed out of me while I was balls deep in him.
Those three words have changed everything, in a split second.
There is no going back for us. But where we go from here, I have no idea.
Carefully pulling out of Rich, I climb off the bed, and walk over to the bathroom, flicking the light on.
For a moment, I stare at my reflection. You actually did it.
You told someone that you loved them. I want to feel elated, but mostly I’m just scared shitless.
My blue eyes are bright, but I think that has more to do with the physical exertion than heartfelt declarations.
Turning on the taps, I wait for the water to get warm before dampening the corner of a towel and picking up a second one.
Walking back into the bedroom, I look over to Rich.
The man is handsome. Just as toned as me, but also a little taller, at about six feet.
His hair is dark brown, with flecks of grey, just a few strands, and he has the most gorgeous green eyes, which are closed at the moment.
I lean over and wipe down his chest, making him jump.
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t hear you come back in,” Rich replies, opening his eyes to look at me, and I’m floored at the passion, or admiration, that is pouring out of them.
“Wanted to get you cleaned up,” I say, as I run the towel over his ass.
With Rich all cleaned up, I walk back into the bathroom, wipe myself down, and dump the towels on the floor.
I could have just dropped them on the floor by the bed, but I just needed the extra minutes this gives me to try and get my thoughts in place.
Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the bedroom to find Rich standing by his clothes. Is he leaving?
“Are you going?”
Rich turns to look at me, opens his mouth, but no words come out. He turns and looks back at his pile of clothes before looking back at me.
“I just thought...” Rich finally says.
Going up to him, I wrap my arms around him so that my chest is to his back, and my head just manages to rest on his shoulder, and I place a small kiss at the base of his neck.
“You thought wrong,” I tell him as I break the kiss.
“Last time, I left,” Rich replies.
“And I was an idiot for letting you leave.” I pause for a moment before adding, “but if you want to, leave.” Giving him the option, though God, I want him to stay, but I also know not to force him to do something he doesn’t want to.
“You love me,” Rich mumbles back.
“You knew that,” I say, as I turn him around in my arms so that I can look at him.
“But…”
“There are no buts, I just said words that you have known all along.”
“I just don’t understand how we got here,” Rich says, and I can see the confusion has replaced the passion that was in his eyes.
“We got here, but frankly, we are idiots. Look, I don’t want you to go.
I want you to get back on the bed, naked, and I think maybe we should talk.
” There is no point denying what I want, but he must also decide if he stays, or if he walks out the door.
Fuck, that is going to hurt, but I need to give it to him.
“But Rich, as I just said, it’s your decision if you want to stay. ”
“I love you,” Rich suddenly says.
“I think that we have established that.”
“No, I needed to tell you, like this.” As he points to the two of us, and I understand what he means. He needed to tell me when he was in control of himself again.
“So?”
“I’m not leaving,” Rich states, his voice firm, as he steps out of my arms, and climbs onto the bed. “I’ll even lie in the damp patch.”
“And they say romance is dead.” I smirk, because I don’t think Rich realised, I never pulled the covers back on the bed. “But we can just pull this cover off. I think there is just a plain sheet underneath.”
“Of course.” As Rich pulls back the cover on the bed to reveal a sheet underneath.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to order anything to eat?” I had managed to get myself something earlier, but I had no idea if Rich had managed to.
“I’m good.”
Rich climbs into bed, pulls the belt from the loop, and picks up the tie from the bed. He subconsciously rubs his wrists.
“Did I hurt you?” Suddenly worried that I may have pulled too tightly on the restraints. If I have left a mark, how on earth is Rich going to explain that?
“No. You didn’t,” Rich confirms, but is still rubbing his wrists.
Climbing on to the bed, I crawl over to him, and take his wrist in my hand to examine it; there is nothing there, thank God. Turning his hand so that his palm is facing upwards, I place a gentle kiss on his pulse point. Feeling his pulse against my lips.
“I should have been more careful.” Annoyed that I got so caught up in what we were doing, that I forgot the one thing we always agreed on. No marks to be left.
“Maybe we need to revisit the mark thing.”
“Umm, care to explain that statement?” Rich wants me to mark him?
“I was rubbing my wrist, because there was not a mark there.”
“Rich…” I start.
Rich twists in the bed, placing the tie and belt on the bedside table before adjusting the pillows and lying down on his side to look at me.
Deciding to copy him, I move my pillow so that it’s closer to his, and lay down on my side, returning his stare, and wait for him to continue.
Rich takes a deep breath, reaches out a hand, and runs it down the side of my face.
I can’t help but to lean into his touch.
“I’m not talking about a bruise or welt. Just a sign that you were there,” Rich states.
I keep looking at Rich, I know what he’s asking, but I’m not sure if that’s something I can do, especially on his wrists. It would only take a split second in lack of judgement, for Rich to forget the mark is there and roll up his shirt and someone to see it, for questions to be asked.
“Rich, I can’t.” And his face falls. “We can’t risk someone spotting it. But there are other ways I can mark you.”
“Like?” Rich says, suddenly interested in my suggestions.
“We can act like a couple of teenagers. I could, maybe, give you a love bite somewhere. Like your chest. No one would see it, but you would know that it was there.
“I like the sound of that.”
Pulling Rich closer to me, I lock my lips to his chest and try to think back to my teenage years when I used to do this, sucking gently. I keep leaning back to check my progress, and when I see a small mark appear, I stop.
“Marked as mine,” I whisper to him and try to ignore that little thrill those words give me.
“Dave, what happens now?”
Rich has voiced the one question that I’m guessing we’ve both been thinking about. What does happen now? Do we pick up where we left off a few months ago? As I think back to that time, I know that’s not what I want.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“I can’t go back to how we were before. That wasn’t healthy. We both need to be on the same page this time around.”
Rich is right. What we had before wasn’t healthy. At times, it was mentally draining, and that isn’t fair to either of us. I cannot risk creating a distraction that could, somehow, affect my driving.
“I can be world champion,” I whisper, almost scared that saying the words out loud could somehow jinx me.
“You keep driving like you are and there is no doubt in my mind. You had some good results at the start of the season, and you’re already closing in on Lars’s points. Now that he isn’t racing the final two races, you have an even bigger chance. Lars will miss out on at least fifty points.”
I know I shouldn’t, but once he finishes, I burst out laughing, and Rich just stares at me. This probably isn’t the best time to laugh, but he has been more passionate in the last thirty seconds talking about my driving than in the last five minutes of a rather intense conversation.
“What?” Rich asks, and there is a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Darling.” Not meaning for this to slip out, but considering how I seem to be engaging my mouth before my brain this evening, I’m not surprised. “I was just reminded that racing will always be your first love, and I’m coming in a close second.”
“It’s just,” Rich starts, but he doesn’t have to explain himself.
“Rich.” And I place my fingers over his lips to silence him. “It’s okay. Racing is in your blood. You see the best in people, often before they see it themselves. You are good at your job.”
“Well, at the moment, so are you.” Rich smirks back, “So…”
And, I know, that he’s turning the conversation back around to what is going to happen with us.
“I don’t want to come out,” I tell him, and he doesn’t look surprised. “I just want to concentrate on my driving. I don’t want the press to say I jumped on the LGBTQ bandwagon.”
“I think you’re right. Plus, we need to make sure that you drive in the races that Lars isn’t competing in.”
“What about you? Do you want to come out?”
“No. I don’t need, or want, the spotlight on me that coming out will generate. Let Lars and Vincent have the limelight with their engagement. Once the dust has settled with that, I will have to think about what I, or we, want to do.”
“But what about us getting time together? The end of the season is crazy. It’s like a race a week from October.”
“We’re just going to have to grab the time when we can. Like tonight. Plus, there is virtually a month between Singapore and the United States race.”
“That can work.” Thinking about the upcoming calendar and when we would start moving to the next destination.
“But in Qatar and Abu Dhabi we have to stay apart. I know that Vincent has already mentioned about me not attending.”
“Won’t it look strange if you aren’t there, as a replacement for Vincent?”