22. Twenty-two
Twenty-two
June 2022
Connor Kelly
T hings are…civil. We’re being very cordial.
It’s awful.
It's been about a month since the world's most awkward dinner with my sister and Will and around three months since the night of the stupid airbed incident. Combined with finding out about me and Will, it seems that’s what finally tipped Fee over the edge. I managed to break the most patient man to have ever lived.
We share a bed every night, falling asleep as far apart as possible before inevitably waking up tangled together and then pretending it didn’t happen. We go to work during the day, although I use the term loosely. After everything that went down last year, I couldn’t work with Mikey anymore, so I let him buy my half of the business. Up until a month and a half ago, I’d been taking on ad hoc joinery jobs to keep me ticking over. At the moment, I spend most of my days working on a project I’m trying to keep a secret from Fee for as long as possible.
Me: Centuries.Shorter.Forgives. 1pm?
My stomach flutters with butterflies, and my hands clam up while I stare at the text message, waiting and watching as it turns from 'delivered' to 'read' . Three dots appear and then disappear. And they’re back…
Fee: Ok
How anticlimactic. At least it wasn’t a no.
Back when we first met, if we wanted to meet somewhere other than the usual spot, we’d use What3words to send a location. I was hoping my text might soften him up a little, but his blunt response says otherwise. I can’t blame him, though. Phoenix reached out with so many olive branches, and for the most part, I beat him over the head with them. Now, it’s my turn to try and make things right. I just hope it’s not too late.
It’s a warm Saturday with a clear blue sky, so it’s busier than I’d have preferred. To give us a modicum of privacy, I’ve laid the picnic blanket on a grassy patch above the waterfall, where it’s quieter. It’s five minutes past one, and waiting for Fee to get here is making me antsy. I can’t seem to sit still.
What if he thinks this is the most pathetic idea ever?
Before I get a chance to totally spiral, pack everything away and pretend this never happened, I spot Fee walking towards me.
He looks really fucking good. The slightly longer scruff on his face suits him. Makes him look older and more rugged. He’s wearing a well-worn pair of denim shorts he’s had for as long as I’ve known him and a white T-shirt a size too small and a tad transparent—not that I’m complaining. He clearly caught me checking him out because when I look up at him, his right eyebrow is arched.
“What’s all this?” he asks, gesturing to the blanket and the food I’ve laid out.
“A picnic?” I’m not sure why I phrase it as a question. It’s clearly a fucking picnic. He doesn’t respond to my stupid answer, so I plough on, “Um. Since it’s five years ago today we met, I thought it might be nice to…erm…do something,” I stammer out.
Someone punch me in the face, I beg you.
“I know what day it is,” is all he says in response.
“You remembered?”
“Of course I remembered.” His words are clipped, and he sounds angry I’d assume otherwise. Anger I can work with. It’s certainly a step up from the past few months of apathy.
“Well, you were gone when I woke up this morning, and I didn’t hear from you, so I figured you’d maybe not realised the date.”
“I didn’t forget. I also didn’t forget last year, you know when I called you and texted you, and you didn’t reply? When you went and got pissed and slept with Will?”
Ouch. My gesture is rapidly backfiring, and I’m not sure how to claw my way back.
“Why did you come then? You obviously knew why I asked you here today.”
“Because you asked me to. Because even though I’m pissed off with you, if you ask me to come, I’ll come.”
DO NOT LAUGH. I roll my lips between my teeth, and my eyes water at the gargantuan effort to not say the words.
“You’re dying to say ‘that’s what he said,’ aren’t you?”
I silently nod my head.
“I’m glad you came,” I reply, and we both crack up. Some of the tension between us melts away, and a tiny blossom of hope blooms in my stomach.
Fee inspects the sandwich I pass him, and his eyes gentle when he sees I made his favourite, pastrami, pickle and mustard on seeded bread. I get a muttered thank you, and I’m taking it as a win.
“What did you think when you first met me?” I ask Fee as we eat our sandwiches. He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Fishing for compliments?” he asks, and I snort a laugh.
“No. I was just thinkin’ about the first time we met, and I wondered if you remember it the same way,” I tell him honestly. Recalling the memory with only my own perspective feels like half of the story is missing.
“I know what you mean.” He looks thoughtfully toward the spot where we first met. “Weirdly, I remember your scent hitting me for the first time more than seeing you. I was minding my own business, enjoying a late-night swim, and then suddenly, all I could smell was heather and lightning. I thought it was so bizarre how the air could be so still and calm yet smell so much like a storm brewing. And then there you were. I’d been so distracted by the smell I hadn’t even heard you approach. It was strange because I remember thinking I’d never been hit with a scent even close to it, but at the same time, it was familiar, like home.”
Well holy shit, if that isn’t the most romantic fucking answer I’ve ever heard.
“Only you could make me fuckin’ swoon while you’re still pissed at me,” I say, trying to lighten the moment a little.
“Yeah, well, we both know I was never very good at staying mad at you.” He rolls his eyes, and I’m flooded with relief. I know everything isn’t suddenly fixed, but I’m starting to feel we could be heading in the right direction.
“I’m pretty much countin’ on it at this point,” I reply, and he huffs out a laugh.
“Do you remember that time I tried to see if I could give you a blowjob underwater, and I accidentally breathed the water in and thought I was going to die?” Fee asks while he picks through the punnet of cherries. He hates eating fruit with even the slightest bruise on it, as if it’s contaminated or something. I pass him a few I’d put to one side that appear to be completely smooth, saving the marginally damaged ones for myself. He gets a soft look in those brown eyes when he realises, and I feel oddly embarrassed. The cherries have stained his lips a rosy red, and it’s very distracting. Especially paired with him reminiscing attempted blowjobs.
“Yeah, I remember. You panicked and almost bit my dick off. Was a long while before you were trusted with your teeth in that region again.” We must have been no more than twenty or twenty-one at the time; a lot of our sexual exploits back then were us trying out random things we’d watched in porn.
Newsflash—rarely a good idea.
“Piss off, ‘a long while’. You wanted a blowjob a week later.” He laughs, and the sound reverberates through me. He’s not wrong. I smile fondly at all the stupid shit we got up to back then, and I’m grateful Fee seems to be joining me on the nostalgia trip today.
After we’ve finished eating, Fee takes his t-shirt off and lies on his front to bathe in the sun. I don’t even bother trying to stop myself from ogling the large expanse of beautiful olive skin since he’s facing away from me. Is a back fetish a thing? His skin glistens where he’s sweating slightly, and I want to lick him.
“Stop staring at me.” His voice is muffled from where his face is tucked into the crook of his elbow.
“What makes you think I’m starin’ at you?”
“I can feel your eyes boring into the back of my head.”
“What can I say? The back of your head really does it for me.” He snorts but then returns to his cat nap, and I return to admiring the view—of his back.
When the sun hides behind a wall of clouds, I begin packing away and stuff everything back into my rucksack. We walk together and head out of sight towards the trees.
“Race you back to the house?” Fee asks as we start to strip out of our clothes.
“What do I get when I beat you?”
“Usual prize applies? Not that you’re likely to win,” he says, and my blood pumps a little harder at the promise. I want to win because I’m competitive, but I’m not sure I can really lose either way here.
“Deal.” We shake hands on it before shifting.
We’ve always been pretty close in speed, I’m bigger as a wolf than Fee is, but he definitely dodges obstacles better than I do. After around a mile of running, I’m marginally ahead of him, but he keeps nipping at my back legs with his teeth, trying to throw me off. He tries again, and his teeth nick me.
“Sneaky bastard, stop cheating.” Even now it's strange to me that we can speak mind to mind. We’ve only been running together a few times since the ceremony, so I’m still getting used to it.
“Sorry. Mistook you for a little rabbit. You look like prey.”
Behind the thoughts he sends me, I can sense his emotions. He’s amused and impish at the moment, and I’ve missed this side of him. It’s been odd seeing him so serious these past few months. It was as if the playful glint in his eyes had been extinguished, and I was the water that had doused the flame.
Hold up, did he just call me a little rabbit? Wanker! I whirl on him and pin him to the ground. I press my teeth to his jugular but don’t bite down.
“Who are you calling a little rabbit? Who’s prey now??”
Fee's tongue is lolling out of his mouth, making him look dopey and ridiculous. I shake my head at him and huff in amusement. He pushes up suddenly and flips us so I’m beneath him.
He distracted me with his goofy face!
I could probably get out if I wanted to, but he looks so pleased with himself I’m hesitant to move. I regret my decision immediately when he starts licking my face and slobbering all over me. The next thing I know, he’s leaping off me to get a headstart back to the house. He’s playing dirty today. Someone clearly wants the prize.
Phoenix Campbell
Cee gets home a few seconds after me and I’m crouched in front of the door, ready to pounce and feeling smug as anything. He rolls his eyes at me but doesn’t seem too put out over losing.
Our house is set back away from the street, so we have a lot of privacy. We can’t exactly have neighbours seeing us shift or wandering outside in the nude. He bows his head at me, acknowledging that I won this round, and I whine happily.
Despite my attempts to stay mad at him, I’ve had a pretty great day.
Cee shifts back and stands before me, completely naked and unabashed. With the sun bearing down on him, I can see a faint tan from where I assume he must have been doing some work outside lately. My gaze travels down his body. His smooth chest is more muscular, and his dusky pink nipples have a few hairs around them. Cee's never been especially hairy; he has a dark happy trail from his belly button down to his pubic hair, which he trims enough to keep it tidy. His cock, which had been soft when I started my perusal, begins to plump up.
“Do you want to claim your prize now, or later?” Cee asks me, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’m not sucking your furry dick, Fee, so you better shift back.” His eyes sparkle playfully as he stalks towards me.
I shift back, and I’m left kneeling on the doorstep by the time he reaches me. He cups my cheek in his palm and tugs on my bottom lip with his thumb. I laugh when I hear the satisfied rumbling noise in his chest. Despite the fact I know we’ve both always been content with our dynamic of me topping and him bottoming, I know he gets turned on by the submissive gesture. When I look up at his eyes, they’re dark and full of a heated promise.
“Stand up,” he says, and I do as asked, leaning against the front door. He takes my place and kneels on the welcome mat in front of me, placing feather-light kisses to my cock as it continues to stiffen. Somehow, there’s nothing submissive about the way Connor kneels for me. His beautiful, stubborn face tells me he’ll only ever give as much as he wants to.
His attention moves to my balls which he laps at before sucking one into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in a way that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. Holy shit, that’s good. I haven’t had his—or anybody’s—mouth on me in so long that I forgot how incredible it feels.
“Fuck, you taste amazin'.”
I look down at him while he strokes me leisurely. He plants gentle kisses to the crease of my groin; it’s so attentive and loving it makes my heart squeeze a little. He shaved his stubble this morning, and it highlights his sharp features; his strong, masculine jaw and high cheekbones. Dark hair flops over his forehead. He let it grow out some the past couple of months, making him look closer to how he did when we first met. Unable to keep my hands to myself, I push his hair back away from his face.
Damn, he’s beautiful.
How was I supposed to ever move on from him after I’d had a taste of perfection?
I can’t help but moan as his tongue licks up my length slowly, like he has all the time in the world and is just savouring the taste. As he takes me into his mouth, he gazes up at me through those thick, dark lashes, and I’m done for.
He sucks me and licks me with enthusiasm, looking completely wrecked. I definitely lucked out with Cee and how much he’s always loved giving head. He really perfected his craft over the years we were together, and I was more than willing for him to practise on me all he wanted.
Cee groans with me in his mouth, and the vibrations around my cock feel incredible. He finally reaches between his legs and strokes himself. His tip is glistening with precum, showing me exactly how turned on he gets from sucking me.
When I hit the back of his throat, he gags for a moment before relaxing and swallowing around me.
Holy fucking shit.
“Oh, fuck you for that,” I sputter at him, and he pulls his mouth off me.
“What?” he asks, like butter wouldn’t melt. The glint in his eyes gives him away, though.
“How am I supposed to hold a grudge when you do the thing with your throat?” I say, sounding as desperate and horny as I feel.
“No idea what you mean,” he replies before enveloping me in the wet warmth of his mouth again.
He hollows out his cheeks as he sucks me down, taking me deep into his throat and doing the exact thing he just feigned innocence over. I’d call him out on the lie, except nothing short of a nuclear bomb going off would get me to interrupt what he’s doing right now.
I think even the postman could turn up, and the best I could offer would be an apology. He swallows again, and the feel of his throat contracting around me has me already close to coming. He can clearly tell I’m right on the edge because he increases his speed, sucking up and down my cock with precisely the right amount of pressure to ensure I lose any semblance of control.
My fingers rake through his hair, and I tug it lightly, just enough to sting in a way that makes him groan. I tighten my grip and start to gently thrust my hips.
“Shit, I’m so close. Why do you have to look so good with my cock in your mouth,” I mutter—mostly to myself.
One final glance down at him, his tight grip around his own shaft moving faster and faster, the way his eyes roll when my dick hits the back of his throat with each thrust, and I lose the battle.
“Babe, I’m gonna come,” I shout out before my release spills into his waiting mouth. I come so hard I'm pretty sure my soul just shot out of my dick, and I’m unsteady on my feet.
He spits my cum into his hand and uses it to jerk himself off frantically. There’s something so wild and feral about it that has my cock trying to rally for a second round. It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to build, and then he’s shooting over his own hand and onto the welcome mat.
As we catch our breath, he stares down at where his hand is covered in the mix of our cum, and a satisfied smile spreads over his face.
“You called me 'babe',” he says, looking up at me, smug and happy. It might have been a momentary lapse in my judgement due to his enthusiastic blowjob, but even when I’m angry with him, even when he lashes out and hurts me, he’s still mine. I never really thought he cared much about the term of endearment back when we were together, but it obviously meant more to him than I realised.
“Yeah, I called you 'babe'. Come here.” I pull him up to his feet.
Swiping my thumb along his bottom lip, where there are still remnants of my cum, I kiss him. His lips are soft and familiar against my own; it’s not a heated kiss, as we’re both spent. It’s a kiss that tastes a lot like a truce. I must be a masochist because it seems no matter how many times Connor swipes his claws at me, I always seem to end up crawling back for more.
I sigh deeply. I feel a strange mixture of resignation I can’t seem to keep him at arm's length, and relief I no longer have to.
“Nothin' says ‘welcome’ like a cummy doormat,” Cee says as we make our way inside.