20. Twenty
Twenty
March 2022
Connor Kelly
F uck. This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. Probably one of the worst ideas I've had in a while, and that's saying something because most of the time, my life feels like a series of highly questionable decisions.
After our major lapse in judgment last night, Phoenix made the bed while I quickly washed up in the bathroom. Now, the sun is peeking through the curtains, and I’m lying still as a statue with Fee sprawled half on top of me, his morning wood digging into my hip. Having sex with him last night has cracked me wide open, and I’m suddenly exposed in a way that’s making my skin itch.
There were times in the last year I tried to convince myself that sex with Fee wasn’t all I’d made it out to be; I told myself I didn’t know any better because he was my first and only. While he’s no longer the only person I’ve had sex with, I know a connection like ours is rare. I think we could live five lifetimes and still want each other on that baser level. It’s not only physical, though; it would be easier if it was. His soul speaks to mine, telling me I’m right where I’m supposed to be when I’m wrapped up in his arms, enveloped in his scent.
Damp earth, lavender, home and mine.
It’s a slippery slope taking comfort in Fee’s arms, though. He broke my heart once, and he could do it again. The sensible thing to do is to put some distance between us, both emotionally and physically. Starting by untangling myself from his heavy limbs.
Most of the shops in the small village we’re living in will be shut today as it's a Sunday. I don’t have a car here because Mikey and I share a work van, but I’m insured to drive third-party, and Phoenix’s Jeep is just sitting out there on the drive. I pull up Maps on my phone; Leeds is only an hour’s drive away. I could probably be there and back before he even wakes up.
Right as I pull up to Go Outdoors, somewhere between Leeds and Bradford, my phone pings, alerting me to a text message.
Do not text him: Assuming you borrowed my car and we haven’t been robbed?
I should probably change his contact information since we’re married and living together and shit.
Me: Yep, just me. Hope that’s ok, I didn't want to wake you. Will only be an hour or so.
Do not text him: No probs
As I step inside the shop, the smell of camping gear has me suddenly nostalgic for childhood holidays. I head straight for the section promising to provide me with a short-term solution to my ‘physical distance’ problem. I grab a double air mattress plus a sleeping bag from the shelves and make my way over to the tills.
I obviously can’t sleep on an airbed forever. Nevertheless, I’m hoping it’ll buy me enough time to figure out what to do where Phoenix Campbell is concerned.
“Do you have a discount card?” the guy at the checkout asks. ‘Josh’, his name tag says.
“No.”
“It’d save you ten pound.”
“Thanks, but I don’t foresee a lot of camping in my future.” He looks at the airbed and the sleeping bag and then back at me. While I appreciate my purchases might appear to contradict that statement, I didn’t come to Go Outdoors on a Sunday morning to be judged by ‘stoner Josh,’ so I stare at him until he continues.
“That’ll be a hundred and forty quid.” Jeez, that's expensive for a piece of plastic and a glorified blanket.
As I walk back to the car, I give myself another pep talk, reminding myself this is for the best. I need space—physical space. Each night I spend in bed with him, my feelings start pouring out of me like a fountain. Good luck, feelings , because tonight I’ll be in the spare bedroom with only my own limbs to contend with.
On the drive home, I give Niamh a call.
“Am I the problem? Is it me?” I ask her as soon as the call connects.
“Most people say ‘Hello, how are you?' before they launch into an existential crisis on the phone.’”
“Hello, how are you?” I retort, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“I’m great, thank you for asking. You’re on loudspeaker by the way. I’m helping Will pick out an outfit for his date tonight.”
“Ooo. Who’s the lucky guy, Will?”
Although wolf shifters are all fairly fluid where sexuality is concerned, he's only ever really been attracted to men. I'm similar to Will, whereas Phoenix has always been pretty evenly attracted to all genders.
Will and I had a rough few months after he and Niamh got married. He had moved into Niamh’s place to keep up appearances, and I was living in their spare room after destroying my flat. I considered crashing with Sammy, but he didn’t know the full story, and it seemed too exhausting to keep up the charade of being fine, day in and day out.
Unfortunately, I was the one person Will desperately needed space from, especially after the June drunken sex debacle. He was only trying to be a good friend because I’d been moping and feeling sorry for myself all day. Will had offered to take me out to get drunk and dance to take my mind off the fact it would have been my and Phoenix’s anniversary. It worked for a little while; we both got totally wankered and stayed out until three am. When we got home to an empty house—Niamh was in London for work—we ended up in my bed together.
I was drunk and sad; Will was warm and familiar. The sex wasn’t great. We were both too inebriated to be particularly co-ordinated and the fact I’d never topped anyone before—showed. As much as I’m almost a hundred percent sure the experience was as lacking for him as it was for me, it made things awkward and tense between us for a few months afterwards. Especially living under the same roof…
Will’s voice interrupts my wandering thoughts. “Nobody you know. I don’t think anything will come of it; I just think it’s time to put myself out there.” He sounds surprisingly cheerful about a date he’s already decided doesn’t have a future.
“Hold up, is this a date or a hookup, Will? Because the outfit I’ve picked out for you says ‘let’s watch a movie and a dry hump if you’re lucky’ not ‘I’m a naughty little twink that likes to get railed into next Sunday’, so which is it???” Niamh asks Will, and I have to bite my lip to stop from howling with laughter down the phone.
“Do you have an option for something in the middle? In the unlikely event he’s the love of my life, I don’t want to forever hear, ‘Do you remember how on our first date you dressed like a sexy stripper?’ but also, if he’s not the love of my life, I would not say no to being railed into next Sunday,” he replies.
“I’m not a magician,” she deadpans, and Will sighs loudly.
“Dark grey skinny jeans with my old Ramones t-shirt you criminally took scissors to and turned into a crop top,” I suggest. “You’ll look hot but not too try hard .”
“Lip-gloss or no lip-gloss?” he asks.
“No lip-gloss. Try the rosy-tinted lip balm,” Niamh replies. “Anyway, let’s go back to talking about how you’re the problem, Con.”
“Right. Yes, that. So I did a stupid thing,” I tell her. “Last night, me and Phoenix got into a slightly heated argument, and I may or may not have accidentally fucked my husband.”
“I’m pretty sure your husband was the one doing the fucking,” Will snickers unnecessarily down the phone, and I blush at the memory of Phoenix ploughing me into the mattress last night.
“Ew. I do not need that many details about my brother’s sex life, William. But yeah, I can clearly see the problem. You and your husband, who you’re madly in love with, had sex. Sounds awful. Are you okay??” Niamh asks sarcastically.
“Not helpful. Everythin’ is still such a big mess between us. Until a week ago, we hadn’t spoken a word to each other in twelve months.” I sigh.
“That’s not entirely accurate. Phoenix reached out to you plenty during that time; you were just too stubborn to answer the phone. So yes, in answer to your original question, you are the problem.” I’m suddenly not entirely sure why I called Niamh. The woman would jump in front of a bus for me, but she’s never been inclined to tell me what I want to hear.
“I would like to go on record to say I agree with Niamh. You are the problem,” Will chirps down the phone after her.
“So good talkin’ to you guys. Gotta go. I’m drivin' through a giant tunnel. Probably won’t be able to speak again for several months. PS, I hope your hookup has erectile dysfunction, Will.” I shout down the phone. Right before I cut off the call, I hear Will saying that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever said to him.
When I get home, there’s no sign of Phoenix in the house, so I make a start on unpacking the boxes stacked in the kitchen. The majority is Phoenix’s stuff because most of my belongings didn’t survive my bad temper last year.
After I’ve unpacked the kitchen and living room, I head upstairs and shuffle my boxes into the currently empty spare bedroom. Pushing them up against the far wall to deal with later, I grab today’s purchases from the boot of the car to set up my temporary bedroom furniture.
By the time Phoenix gets home, it’s tea time, and he quickly starts clattering around in the kitchen.
“Thanks for sorting out the boxes,” he says as I walk into the room.
“No problem. Where were you today?” I ask, even though I know it’s not really any of my business.
“I look after Henry for a few hours most Sundays so Jasper and Jade can get some time alone. And yes, I’m pretty sure it’s as gross as it sounds.” He winces, and I let out a chuckle in response.
“Oh shit, sorry, you needed your car, didn’t you?” I say as soon as I realise.
“No, it’s fine. I enjoyed the run; helped clear my head. We’ve absolutely no food in the house, by the way. Do you want to order in?” he asks and takes out his phone, I assume to see where will deliver.
“Sure, you pick.”
“Damn, looks like there’s only Indian that delivers. I think this pizza place might do collection, though.”
“I’m good with Indian if you are?” I ask. He frowns at me in confusion.
“What are you talking about? You don’t like Indian food.”
“When have I ever said I don’t like Indian food?”
“Literally any time I ever picked up food for us, you’d say ‘just not a curry’,” he fairly points out. My cheeks flush as I remember my reasoning.
“Oh yeah, erm…Well, I do. So we can order it.”
“Explain, please,” he says, looking at me like I’ve been withholding pertinent information from him all this time.
“Or…I could not. And you could just order the food?” I ask hopefully. His arched eyebrow tells me we will not be eating until I explain this very minor miscommunication. This is not the kind of chat you want to be having before your tea.
“I bottom…” I say slowly, hoping he understands my meaning without forcing me to elaborate. His cheeks go pink at the statement, and I wish I didn’t find that so cute. He coughs to clear his throat.
“I’m aware… I was there. What’s your point?” he asks me in a way that someone who has only ever topped would ask. I sigh, knowing I’m going to have to spell this out.
“Well, Phoenix, if you’re going to have someone’s dick in your arse, it’s usually best not to have a load of spicy food beforehand. Comprende?” Now his whole face is blushing, and it’s hard not to laugh.
“Oh.” His eyes widen in recognition.
“Yeah, oh. Now, can we order the food?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? It seems like something I should have known.” He looks genuinely put out that I haven’t mentioned this to him before. We were always pretty open about anything related to sex, but I never felt the need to go into detail regarding how I went about preparing myself beforehand.
“It wasn’t as if I was keepin' it a secret. I kind of assumed you knew.”
He still looks as though he’s trying to solve a mental crossword, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else and gets on with the task at hand.
Tea is fairly painless, and we stick on some Always Sunny In Philadelphia to kill some time before bed. We haven’t mentioned a word about last night, which I’m grateful for because I’m no clearer on where my head is at. After 'Dennis Looks Like a Registered Sex Offender' finishes, I tell Phoenix I’m beat and head up to bed.
It doesn’t take me very long to really start regretting all my life choices. I’m lying on my uncomfortable air bed, and it squeaks whenever I move. When Phoenix walks up the stairs a short while later, after he’s walked into the master bedroom and found it and the bathroom empty, I hear him call out my name in the hallway.
“In here,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear. A few seconds later, he opens the door to the spare room and stares at me. His eyebrows bunch together in confusion.
“Why are you in here?” he asks, and I hold in a breath; this isn’t going to go down well.
“After last night, I thought some space would be good.”
“Space?”
“Yeah, space.”
“While you sleep?”
“Mhmm.”
“Mister Uses-me-as-a-human-pillow, needs ‘space’ while he sleeps?” I don’t dignify that with a response, mostly because I don’t have one. He has a point, but I’d sooner set myself on fire than admit that fact. “Is that where you went first thing this morning? To buy this thing?” He looks at the airbed like it’s a giant cockroach.
“I had some errands to run anyway, and I thought I’d pick this up while I was out.” I sit up on the bed and pick at a non-existent hangnail on my thumb.
“Oh yeah, what other errands?” he asks, immediately zoning in on the lie. Damn him for being a walking polygraph test.
“You know, just…like…stuff,” I reply, ever so smoothly. I hope nobody ever interrogates me because, apparently, I do not hold up well under pressure. And by pressure, just Fee marginally narrowing his eyes at me. “Fine. Okay. I didn’t have any errands. I can’t think clearly when you’re so close all the time, and as evidenced by last night, bad things happen when we don’t think clearly.”
“Bad things?” His voice cracks, and he looks like I kicked his puppy. Or maybe he’s the kicked puppy. Either way, a puppy has been kicked by my big mouth. If I could stuff the words back into my face, I would.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Fuck you for saying that,” he interrupts me. There’s no real anger behind his words, which is so much worse. He looks fucking gutted.
I am such a dick.
He turns and makes his way back to our bedroom before I can even find the words to apologise.
I lie back down and toss and turn a few times, but this horrible rubber bed makes so much noise I have to lie as still as a corpse if I have any hope of falling asleep tonight. Guilt gnaws away at me until I can’t take it anymore.
I partially shift so I can use a claw to pop a hole in the mattress. The mattress that now represents everything I hate about myself. It’s a very loaded mattress.
When I walk into our bedroom, Fee appears to be a big lump under the duvet with his back to me. I can hear from his breathing that he's still awake, though.
Lifting the covers on my side, I get under them and shuffle up behind him. I tug on his shoulder lightly, pulling him to lie on his back, and when I look down at him, he’s glaring up at me angrily.
I have the really unfortunate and extremely inappropriate urge to laugh all of a sudden. Why is it that the moment you think about how awful it would be to laugh, one instantly tries to bubble out of you? Barely managing to stifle it, I stroke a hand over the light brown stubble across his cheek. I can feel his jaw pulsate with how tightly he’s clenching his teeth. It’s kind of sexy if I’m being honest, but I digress.
Bending down, I kiss the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t budge, and he doesn’t say a word.
Looks as though I’ll have to actually use my words. Yuck.
“I’m sorry, Fee, please forgive me?” I whisper into the near-silent room. He opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything, so I try again. “It wasn’t a bad thing, I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve never regretted having sex with you, ever. I’m sorry I said it,” I tell him sincerely.
To myself, I silently add that I’ll stop punishing him now. It’s not as though I’ve suddenly forgiven him for everything, but I don’t want to keep hurting him. Honestly, it hurts me too. Fee wordlessly turns back onto his side, and right before I can retreat to my side of the bed and give him some space, he reaches back and pulls my arm so it’s resting over his waist. Taking the hint, I wrap myself around the curve of his back. Resting the palm of my hand on his warm stomach, I gently stroke over the soft hair there with my thumb until I hear his breathing even out, telling me he’s drifted off to sleep.