Epilogue
It didn’t happen immediately. It didn’t even happen soon-ish.
It took a lot of working with my therapist and a lot of venting to my group.
But eventually, I felt like I’d come to terms with my diagnosis.
It wasn’t like I loved it - who loves chronic illness?
- but I’d accepted that it was reality and that I had to go on from here.
Jamison had been my rock through all of it, holding me when I cried. He’d held me together entirely at times, it’d felt like. Some days I nearly shook apart until he took me in his arms, and then it was like peace could finally descend.
My HIV-positive group had talked me through a lot of meltdowns and a lot of nerves.
Jamison and I still hadn’t had anal sex since before my positive test - I hadn’t been sure if I’d ever feel ready for that - but we managed to have an enjoyable sex life nonetheless, and he assured me he didn’t feel like he was missing anything.
Still, I was determined. Tonight, I was going to conquer my phobia come hell or high water. “Hey, Jamie?” I said as I stood at the kitchen table mixing the salad we were going to have to accompany our dinner of baked chicken.
He looked over his shoulder at me, pausing his hands that had been manipulating chicken breasts in a casserole dish. “Hm?”
I took a deep breath and let it out. I could do this. It wouldn’t ruin anything. “Can I…can we make love tonight?”
He smiled a little. “Hon, we make love most nights. Of course we can.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean…like, all the way.” I grimaced. “God, that makes me sound like a virgin from the fifties.” Gritting my teeth, I tried again. “I want to be inside you again.”
Jamison sucked in a sharp breath and dropped the chicken into its dish. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m nervous as hell, but I think I’m ready.”
“You know we don’t have to do this.” He moved to the sink and began washing his hands to get chicken juice off them. “I’m perfectly happy with our sex life how it’s been.”
“I know.” Ok, this salad wasn’t going to get any more tossed than it already was.
I forced my nervous hands to put down the salad tongs.
“But I…I miss the closeness of full-on sex. And I’ve been talking about it at group and with Gay, and…
” I waved a hand vaguely. “I think I can handle it now. No, I want to handle it now.”
He turned away from the sink and studied me for a few seconds, looking contemplative. He was probably weighing my words, trying to discern if I was saying them for myself or for him. “I’m still on PREP,” he finally said. "And my tests since we got your diagnosis have all been non-reactive."
It took me a few seconds to follow his silent logic, and then I flinched. “Condoms,” I blurted. “We’d need to use condoms still.”
He didn’t seem surprised by that. “I figured. But between the PREP and the condoms, you feel safe enough?”
I could only shrug at that. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe, but yeah, I think I feel safe enough.”
That got me a nod. “Ok.”
“Okay?”
He smiled gently. “Ok. We can do whatever you’re comfortable with, Hen. I love it all with you. And if you need to stop…” He turned back to the chicken. “We stop. No questions asked.”
I fought the urge to deny that I’d need to stop.
Hector’s voice popped into my head: Sometimes you’ll try something and it’ll be too much, and you might need to pull back a step.
That’s not a loss of ground; that’s just knowing your limits and not exceeding them.
Yeah, it was possible I’d panic mid-act.
But I’d worked with Gay about that in anticipation of this day, and I thought I was prepared and able to speak up if it came down to it.
“Thank you,” I told Jamison honestly. “I don’t know how to express how grateful I am for how supportive you’ve been this whole time. ”
“Pfft,” he scoffed, puffing up like an aggrieved cat.
“I haven’t done anything any worthwhile person wouldn’t do for someone they love.
” Yeah, Jamison didn’t like hearing that he’d exceeded what most of the world would have done in his situation.
He preferred to think that everyone was as good as him.
I’d tried to get through to him that he was special, but apparently that still hadn’t sunk in.
“I love you too,” I replied instead of trying to correct him again. It wasn’t like his humility wasn’t an attractive quality. “A lot.”
“So…” He turned his head to look at the casserole he’d been building before I brought all this up. “Put the chicken in the fridge and go to bed, or cook, eat, and then bed?” He offered me a comical leer. “Either way, we end up in bed, baby.”
The sight of a dramatic leer on his usually-sweet face got a grin out of me. “Bed first. Definitely,” I said with a bravado belied by my pounding heart. Was I scared that this would all go wrong somehow? Shitless. But I was going to do it anyway.
Without another word, Jamison put the casserole on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, then grabbed the salad bowl from my hands, which had clenched around it.
He noticed my nervous grip, of course he did, but he didn’t say anything about it, just waited for me to release the bowl from my death grip.
After a few seconds, I managed it, and he popped the salad in the fridge alongside the chicken, then crossed the room back to me where I was standing, trying not to clench my firsts in determination.
“Hey,” he said softly, and then kissed me, just a light peck.
“Hey,” I replied, licking my lips to get a taste of him.
And if my voice shook a little, neither of us would mention it.
I leaned forward and copied his kiss, a little deeper this time.
Our lips danced together, and then I felt his tongue run lightly along my lower lip.
Obediently, I opened for him with a groan.
“Mmm.” He pulled back from the kiss and took my hand, giving it a light tug. “Bedroom.”
I nearly tripped over Curie, who had been nosing hopefully around the kitchen for dropped chicken, as I moved to follow him, but she scooted out of the way at the last second.
“You have a death wish, cat,” I admonished her.
She ignored me, as was her royal prerogative, and I sighed and stepped high over her twitching tail.
“Don’t try to distract me. I’m taking Jamie to bed and cats are not invited. ”
Jamison grinned back at me and pulled on my hand again. “They’re way too young to see what we’re about to get up to.”
“Poor babies.” With Curie out of the way, the path to the bedroom was clear, and we made the trip in just a few seconds. Hey, my house just wasn’t that big.
Jamison closed the bedroom door behind us and then turned to me, his eyes hot. “I’m going to ask this one more time, and then I’m going to shut up and enjoy: you sure about this, sweetie?”
I nodded firmly. “As I can be. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“Fair enough.” He sat down on the bed and shucked off his socks, tossing them into the hamper. “Get naked.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh at the flat demand. “Yes, sir.” I stripped my shirt off and tossed it at him playfully.
Jamison batted it away from his face as it flew. “Rude.” We both watched the shirt float to the ground. “Now your pants,” he instructed, popping his own fly and drawing down the zipper.
Within a minute, we were both naked, staring at each other. “Sooo,” I drawled when neither of us moved after a few seconds. “You come here often?”
Jamison snorted and reached his hand out to draw me to the bed. “Almost every night, handsome. You?”
“It’s been a while, but I thought I’d get back out there,” I played along. “And I’m glad I did.” I allowed him to tow me in until I had to climb onto the bed to keep from falling onto it. Our bodies kissed and I allowed Jamison to pull me in further until I was on top of him.
“Mmm, hello,” he purred. “I love your weight on top of me.”
I gave a subtle wiggle, enjoying the feeling of his dick against mine.
A few months ago, it would have sent me into a panic, worrying about my pre-come getting on him.
And yes, I could admit it still made me nervous, but I kept up a mental chorus of PREP and no open wounds and managed to swallow down the nerves before they became obvious. I hoped.
“I love being on top of you,” I replied after what was probably a second too long, but Jamison didn’t call me on it. Lifting one hand, I tweaked his nipple gently. “Hm, these are interesting.”
“Pretty sure you have your own,” he shot back, snorting lightly. “But I don’t mind you experimenting with mine.” And with that, he laid his head back on the pillow and let his whole body relax, clearly offering himself up for whatever I wanted to do to him.
That was a cue I’d happily take. I laved his nipple again with my tongue, then used my teeth to lightly pinch it.
Jamison shuddered and goosebumps popped up on his skin.
“Mmm,” he moaned, lifting one hand to run it through my hair and dislodge my hair elastic.
I lifted my head in time to watch it go flying across the room with a twang.
We’d find it two weeks from now in a pile of cat toys, I was sure.
I’d been using both hands to support myself above Jamison on the bed, but now I transferred my weight to my left hand and lifted my right so I could use a finger to trace over his lips.
Our eyes met as I did that, and I felt more than saw his lips twitch up into a tender smile as his eyes softened.
Then he flicked out the tip of his tongue against my finger and I felt that contact right in my cock.
It was my turn to shudder. “Babe,” I ground out.
He grinned at me and arched his back, bringing our hips into tighter contact. “Yes? Did you have a comment, my dear?” he asked playfully as we both felt my cock jerk against his.
I needed more friction. I lifted my hand back to his mouth. “Lick.”