That One Moment

25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Caiden

T hree days after Jamie woke up in the middle of the night to cook me soup, he’s still in my flat. He told me he took more time off work and so did I. We spent the three days talking about nothing of consequence yet every word felt important. There hasn’t been a time where we’ve talked to each other as much as we have recently. Besides talking, we’ve passed the time watching television, taking walks along the river, and eating at the pub. At night, Jamie crawls into bed next to me and keeps to his side - only the occasional brush of a hand between us.

I’m on the sofa, laptop resting on my knees when Jamie walks out of the bedroom, dressed in his running gear.

“Do you have to work today?” he asks.

“No. I'll be back in tomorrow. I actually have a therapy session later today.”

“That was really quick! I thought the doctor at the hospital said there was a waiting list for it?”

Moving the laptop to the coffee table, I stand and adjust the sleeves on my hoodie before walking past him and into the kitchen. “My company has a private health care package for their employees. I phoned around after talking to my GP and managed to find someone with an opening today. I’ve put off talking to someone about this for so long, I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“What about you?” Taking out two glasses, I pour us both a glass of orange juice. Jamie puts bread in the toaster then feeds Ford, and we move around my kitchen, perfectly in sync. I like it more than I should.

“I have a few more days off.” He strokes Ford's back, and I bite back the urge to ask him what his plans are. I don't want to know exactly when he's leaving, even if I know it's coming. His life isn’t here. His job, his girlfriend, his friends - they’re not in Kingston, they’re back in our home town.

“I'm going to get ready,” I tell Jamie, making a swift exit. In the bathroom, I study myself in the mirror. My black hair is long and messy and my eyes have deep circles under them. My fingers tap restlessly on the countertop, my upcoming therapy session playing on my mind.

It’s only an introductory one today, but I’m apprehensive nonetheless. The last therapist I saw was in the days before Cooper died. I’d liked her and felt that the tools she’d enabled me with, along with the prescribed antidepressants, were helping. I’m afraid now that this new therapist won’t understand me in the same way or blame me for not getting help these past three years. But mostly, I’m scared that she won’t be able to help me. This darkness has been trying to pull me under since long before Cooper died. His dying only made it worse. It's become so much a part of me, what if it's too entwined to be removed?

I take my time getting ready, and when I’m done in the bathroom, Jamie is sitting on my bed, fiddling with his phone, his eyebrows pulled together as he reads something on the screen. When he senses me in front of him, he looks up, his eyes sliding over my naked chest then trailing down to where I have a towel wrapped around my waist before moving back up to my face.

“How are you feeling about today?” he asks, shifting on the bed and resting his hands on his lap, his phone face down on the sheets next to him.

“Nervous. Worried. Scared.” I dip my head, heat flushing on my cheeks at how weak that makes me sound.

Jamie stands and moves in front of me. “Hey.” He places a hand on my chin, tipping my face towards him. “It’s normal to feel that way. You can take it as slow as you need to. Remember the doctor only wants to help you.”

I nod, his hand still on my chin. “What if she can’t help me? What if I always have these times where I feel like I’m drowning and nothing helps except….” I can't bring myself to say the words, to admit the truth of how I've coped for all these years, out loud, to him.

“Is that how you feel?” Jamie asks and I nod again, looking over his shoulder. “Is that why you hurt yourself?”

My eyes snap to him and I want to turn away when I mumble a quiet ‘yes’ but he’s looking at me too intently and he's holding me right where he wants me, so I can't hide. There’s no judgement or pity in his eyes but the tenderness I see there instead does something to my heart that has me wishing he’d always look at me this way.

“You tell her that. And if she can’t help you, we’ll find someone who can.”

We.

I wonder if he’s aware that he said that. We’ll find someone. Not me, not the doctors. We. The two of us. Jamie and Caiden.

“Okay,” I say, and the responding tip of his lips has me smiling back at him.

“Okay,” he repeats my words and brushes a kiss to the side of my jaw. “Now go, don’t be late.”

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be here,” he replies, with absolutely no hesitation.

Doctor Bowen, the private psychologist I was lucky to find at short notice, is in her late fifties and exudes kindness and care. My skin buzzes and my legs move restlessly as she jots down notes from the first part of our session. After a few questions about my general health and how I’m feeling today, she asked where I wanted to start. Surprising myself, I started with my mother. From the time she left us, right up until the last time I saw her. We haven’t touched on Cooper yet - other than that he was my twin and he died - and I’m not sure when I’ll be ready for that. At some point, I’ll have to tell her how I’ve been punishing myself for his death as some twisted way to even the scales, but not now.

“Last thing for today, Caiden. You don’t need to tell me but please know that anything you say will remain confidential unless I feel you are a danger to yourself or others.”

I nod in understanding.

“Are you still self-harming?” She’d already asked me if I’m still having suicidal thoughts, which I told her I’m not. I explained to her it was just that one time, explained - without mentioning Cooper - that I don’t want to die. I just want to stop hurting.

Nodding again, I look down at my hands aimlessly rubbing up and down my jean clad thighs. It's been only once since the hospital, the night Jamie left after we'd fucked in the kitchen. I don't tell her about him, mostly because I don't know what I'd say but also because I want to keep everything about him to myself, while I can.

She writes something in her notes but smiles at me tenderly. “Okay. Thank you for being honest with me. Moving forward, we’re going to try a therapy called Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. We’ll work together over the next ten to twelve weeks to identify what makes you self-harm and look at ways to reduce these urges. This isn’t about anyone trying to fix you, Caiden. It’s about giving you the tools to help yourself and manage your thoughts and behaviours. We’ll take it at your pace, and every week, I’ll give you a few things to do at home. How does that sound?”

I don’t speak for a pause, letting her words settle in my mind. She’s offering a way to help me but also a way to empower me to help myself. The fear I experienced earlier has mostly subsided, but still, there’s something I need to ask.

“It sounds good in theory. But what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m too damaged and fucked up to help?”

“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll look at alternatives. There’s no one size fits all answer here. But there are options, and I’ll work with you as long as it takes to find something that does work. If you’re willing to work with me too?”

Letting out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, I say, “Okay, I want to do that. Yes.”

The doctor and I talk for a little longer before my time is up. I set up a recurring appointment with her for every Monday morning and then walk the short distance back to the train station. Emotionally drained from the events of the last few days, along with a lack of restful sleep, I trudge into my apartment with the aim of going straight to bed.

Jamie isn’t in the lounge or the kitchen when I walk in, and he’s not in my room, either. His voice carries down the hall and I follow it to the partly open door of my bathroom. He’s singing a song I recognise - and love - about being made to love someone. It's beautiful, sorrowful and deep, with lyrics that resonate deep into my soul.

Telling myself I can have this one last selfish act, I take off my shirt, push the door open further and walk into the bathroom. It’s a small room with only a toilet, basin and moderately sized shower. Steam billows around me as I take off my socks and hesitate with my hand over my jeans. I’ve had these ‘rules’ about what parts of me I’ll let guys see, and my upper legs and thighs are not one of them. I know Jamie is different and he knows things about me that others don’t. Yet, I can’t help but worry he’ll be disgusted with me so, I leave them on and climb into the shower behind him, the water quickly soaking into my black jeans.

His singing stops and his breath hitches when I wrap my arms around his stomach and press my lips to this shoulder, licking at the drops of water that run from his hair. My hands roam the planes of his taut stomach, up and over his defined pecs.

“Is this okay?” I whisper. My finger finds his nipple and circles the bud and his body shivers under my touch.

“Yes,” he says, turning his head and finding my lips with his. Jamie groans when I squeeze his nipple again and my dick thickens behind my too-tight jeans as his tongue slides along the seam of my lips before pushing inside. It’s not the most comfortable angle and when I wrap a hand around his hard cock, he releases my mouth with a gasp, his head falling backwards onto my shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, as I stroke him firmly with one hand while the other slides down his ass. He widens his legs, and I trail two fingers between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. His hips move, chasing both the hand working his cock and the one tapping at his entrance.

“Can I?” I ask, my finger dancing around his hole. He grunts a yes and I slip the tip in. Jamie shudders, arches his back and exposes the long line of his neck to me. I lick the droplets of water from his skin then sink my teeth into the spot just below his jaw at the same time I push the digit deeper. Sucking harder, I know I’m leaving a mark and the animal part of me preens before I finally let up.

“So fucking tight. More?” I ask, pressing my finger to the bundle of nerves inside of him. He moans, loud and deep and presses back onto my hand, chasing the feeling.

“Yes, more, give me more, more,” he chants, his voice gravelly. When I remove both my hands from his body, he glares at me over his shoulder, the green of his eyes swallowed up by his blown pupils. Water droplets hang from his eyelashes and his lower lip is red from where he’s been biting it.

With one hand, I undo my jeans, and with the other, I press on his back. “Put your hands on the wall.” He obeys, bending his head beneath the spray of the shower while he holds himself up against the tiles. His ass is round and firm and I knead the globes, pressing my thumbs into the dimples on his lower back before bending down to kiss them. He moans as I bite, suck, and kiss my way over his ass cheeks and down the back of his thighs until I'm on my haunches, his sexy ass right in my face.

Pulling his cheeks apart, I swipe my tongue over his hole, lapping at the water that’s running from the shower and down his body.

“Holy shit, fuck, yes, like that,” he pants. My tongue runs over his rim again before curling and dipping inside, past the tight ring of muscle. He tastes like soap and musk - the taste so intoxicating, I can barely contain my need to come.

Letting go of one cheek, I pull my cock out of my soaked underwear and stroke myself while nibbling and licking around his hole, feeling it flutter beneath my tongue. My cock twitches, pleasure radiating from my toes, and up my spine, so I stop, not wanting to come on the shower floor when there’s far better places for it.

“You’re so perfect. Perfect mouth…your tongue…fuck…More, please more,” Jamie babbles on and on, the muscles in his arm bunching as he jerks himself in long, hard strokes. Standing, I slide my cock between his thighs and he instinctively squeezes them together, creating a tight vice around me.

The water turns cold so Jamie shuts it off, and the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breathing echoes through my tiny bathroom. He continues to work his cock as I fuck his thighs and nibble on the side of his neck, leaving a mismatched pattern of bites and bruises along his skin. My movements pick up, my thrusts matching the erratic beating of my heart.

“Would you let me fuck you?” I ask, kissing a purple spot blooming on his neck.

Jamie groans and curses, his body trembling as he comes. His one hand rests over mine on his hip and he drops his head against the tiles, chuckling a ‘bloody hell’ as he does.

My body rides the edge of release and I move my hips back when he suddenly turns and slams me against the tiled wall, knocking the air from my lungs. His lips hover above mine, breath hot against them. “I’d let you do anything to me, sunshine,” he whispers.

My jeans stick to me uncomfortably, keeping the rest of my legs and thighs covered up while my dick pushes out from the open waistband. Jamie’s clean hand finds my neck while his cum coated one ghosts down my stomach, the muscles ripple and clench beneath his featherlite touch. When his hand is right above my cock, I tense. It’s been a very long time since I let a guy touch me there, I’d normally push them away, but I want this - with him.

“Okay?” he checks in and I nod, sucking in a sharp breath when he circles my cock, coating me in his release. His hand glides smoothly up and down my dick, and my legs shake as pleasure zings up my spine. I lean forward and slant my lips over his then push my tongue into his mouth.

The movement of his hand on me feels so intense and unfamiliar that a cry-like whimper passes my lips. Jamie sucks on my tongue ring in a way that is so obscenely erotic, it sends white hot bolts of electricity through my veins.

I’m a whimpering, writhing mess under Jamie’s touch as he jerks my cock and squeezes the sides of my neck enough to have my vision blurring on the edges.

Jamie’s warm breath passes over my ear. “That’s it, good boy. Let go. I’ve got you.” He steps closer, sliding a leg between mine, and I feel his hard length at my side. My head flops back against the tiles as pleasure erupts from me and Jamie works me hard and fast over the edge. He releases my neck then slips his cum coated fingers into my mouth and rubs them against my tongue before kissing me deeply, sharing my flavour.

“God, you taste good.” He leans back and looks at me, his green eyes dark and full of lust and desire. My heart skips a beat because I put that look there. There’s a little niggling thought in the back of my mind though, that says he’s seeing Cooper when he looks at me, but I bat it away and bask in the warmth of his attention.

“I’m not done with you, yet,” Jamie says with urgency, taking my hand and pulling me out of the shower. We’re both still wet, water trailing down our bare skin and dripping from my jeans to create puddles on the floor. We kiss and grapple at each other, banging into doors and walls, nails scraping, teeth gnashing and tongues fighting for dominance until we reach my room.

“I need inside you,” he grunts, stepping into me so I’m forced backwards until my legs hit the bed and I fall onto the sheets. Jamie climbs over me, uncoordinated and desperate as his heavy body pushes me into the mattress. “Need to come inside you.”

His kisses turn gentle, soft and passionate as he runs one hand up and down my side. “Please don’t regret this,” I plead, vulnerability bleeding into my words.

Please don’t disappoint me.