Twenty-Three
ZAK
I like it much better when Owen is home for games. In the past ten days, he’s had two nights away for a single game in Buffalo. Otherwise, he’s been here.
Honestly, it’s been heaven. Which is incredibly appropriate since I’m still very much convinced that this man is divine.
My birth certificate arrived just before he left for Buffalo, and he assured me we could go get my ID as soon as he got back if I didn’t want to do it alone while he was gone.
There was a part of me that wanted to. Maybe to prove to us both that I could do it.
But in the end, the fear of being locked out again and refused entrance weighed far too heavily on my shoulders.
But as soon as he got home, Owen dropped his duffle and we left the condo again to head for the DMV. Where we sat for two hours! And I didn’t even walk away with a photo ID. Just a paper one that said my official one would be in the mail.
What I hadn’t realized is that it cost like $85.
Owen tapped my phone, reminding me I could pay for it with the wallet app.
Every single fiber in my body rebelled at the thought, but I hadn’t brought any of my cash, so I didn’t have a choice.
We’d already spent two hours just waiting.
And that was after Owen got back from a very long bus across the state!
It shouldn’t be this humiliating, should it? Letting someone else pay for you? Is it normal to feel this mortified? So… worthless?
I’m battling hard to keep in my emotions when we leave. My frustration usually comes out in tears and I’ve worked really hard since my second parents left, to never cry. I always tell myself I need to use that feeling as motivation to fix my situation.
But I’m just so tired of scaling mountains when I never reach the top.
My face feels hot in the car on the way back. The frustrated tears are right there. Just beneath the surface. Even my body shakes from the effort of trying to hold them in. I hold my breath for as long as I can, choking off the fuel my tears need to escape. This leaves me gasping.
Owen doesn’t say anything until we’re inside the condo. Then he pulls me into his arms and that’s it. Why does a soft touch always break through the toughest walls?! “I’m sorry,” I choke out through sobs. “I promise, I’m not a crier. I’m really not.”
“Shh,” he murmurs, rocking me gently in his arms.
My sobs continue and I’m sure I’m drooling and snotting all over him, which only makes matters worse. The tears rack my body for a long time. Owen never lets me go. He hugs me tightly, hums quietly, and rocks me slowly.
I appreciate that he doesn’t tell me it’s going to be okay. That line always feels like an empty promise. It’s never been okay. Not when my mom died. Not when I was handed over to strangers and told they were my new parents. Not when those parents abandoned me, leaving me all alone at fourteen.
It was never okay. What about any of that was ever going to be okay?
All the pain and fear and frustration burst out of me in angry tears.
Things I’ve kept bottled up for ages. For years.
I feel my mother’s death all over again.
The feeling of being left alone in the big world with no one there to love me.
No one to take care of me. There was no one left who wanted me.
Over and over, it felt like that point was proven.
I was too afraid after that to allow myself to be put into a position where I could feel it again. That’s why I wouldn’t take Auntie Faith’s help after a couple years. It was just like… we were working up to the point where she was going to realize she didn’t want me, either.
It wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t even true. Just like with my friends. I know that they’re never going to push me away.
And maybe… Maybe Owen would keep me.
I press my face into his chest hard, trying to fill my lungs with nothing but him. Trying with every breath to tell myself that he’s not going to kick me to the curb. He’s going to come home every day, after every away game, and he’s going to still want me.
It’s hard to accept. Even harder to believe.
Hours pass. Maybe. At any rate, it’s dark by the time I’m able to catch my breath. There’s a chance that I just ran out of tears. Not because I’m done crying, but because I’ve cried myself into dehydration.
We’re no longer standing inside the door. I’m not sure when we moved, but we’re curled up on a chair in the living room. Owen has me wrapped in a blanket and nestled into his chest. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes and he doesn’t make me, for which I’m thankful.
Owen always makes me look at him. I don’t even hate it. Most of the time, I really appreciate that he wants to actually see me. But I’m relieved when he seems to know that sometimes I don’t want that. I need to take a minute on my own to compose myself without being looked at.
When I finally gather my strength and look at him, Owen’s not watching me. He’s looking out the windows. Until he feels me shift and his attention is on me immediately.
I give him a sheepish smile. Feeling completely embarrassed. “Sorry,” I whisper.
His finger moves gently over my jaw. The way he’s looking at me is so soft. So tender. It’s almost enough to bring tears to my eyes again. I’m glad there aren’t any left.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Thank you for trusting me to be here for you.”
Is that what I did? I guess maybe.
“I swear, it doesn’t happen often. It doesn’t happen ever! I never cry.” My words trail off when his thumb brushes over my lips.
“There’s nothing wrong with crying, Zak. Sometimes you just need to cry and that’s completely okay.”
I sniff, not sure I share that view.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No.” My breath is shaky when I inhale. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re allowed to keep things to yourself. There’s no requirement that says you need to spill your heart out to me.”
“I thought that’s what you did in relationships,” I whisper. “Tell your secrets.”
He smiles softly. “You can tell me whatever you want. When you’re ready. You’ve been fighting alone for a very long time. Never letting anyone carry your burden with you. Not even your friends. Haven’t you?”
Fuck, the way that hits home. I nod, my bottom lip trembling.
“I may not know your friends very well, but I’m sure that they would happily have helped you. It’s okay to want to make your own way. But sometimes, you need to know that it’s actually braver to ask for help when you hit a wall you can’t get around on your own.”
My eyes drop. I’ve heard as much before. Not quite so blatantly. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I nod.
“I would carry it for you if you’d let me.
Take it all away,” Owen promises, and fucking tears sting my eyes again.
That’s not even possible. There aren’t supposed to be any left.
I let out a frustrated huff, my shoulders rising as I squeeze my eyes shut and will them back inside.
“But if you’d rather me just hold you instead, I can do that, too. ”
Owen’s hand rubs up and down my back soothingly. He doesn’t speak further, maybe understanding that I need another minute to put myself together once more. I feel so tired. A yawn breaks free and I lean over to relax in his arms again.
“Want to rest a while?” Owen asks quietly. “I’ll tuck you into bed.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He stands, picking me up like I weigh nothing more than a rag doll. I think I’ve been putting on some weight since being here and finally eating regularly. But Owen carrying me through his house is effortless.
Just as he says he’s going to do, Owen tucks me in. He pushes the blankets all around me, nudging them under my body until I’m cocooned. Then he kisses my forehead.
“I’ll be here. I’m never leaving.”
Fuck if those words don’t make me choke up again. He seems to read all my insecurities and knows exactly what I long to hear. But that makes the words more dangerous. More potent. If he changes his mind later, it’ll tear me into pieces.
I close my eyes and try to clear my thoughts entirely.
Maybe it works. I might have fallen asleep. When I open my eyes again, the room feels darker. I’m alone, but I can still feel Owen’s presence nearby. When I shift, I see the bathroom light on through the cracks in the door. Now that I’m listening, I can hear the shower.
Maybe Owen will let me take a shower with him. Maybe he’ll hold me and touch me and not make me tell him I want something. He seems to know what I need, so maybe he’ll see what I need now.
Inhaling, my lungs feel heavy. I snort. Of course, they do. I cried for like eight days! I made up for years of refusing to cry in a single evening. God, that’s disgusting.
Pushing the blankets aside, I crawl off the bed and move toward the door. Quietly, I turn the knob and listen for the click and then push it open slowly.
The room is filled with steam. It covers the mirror and the glass around the shower. Not enough to entirely obscure my view, and my breath catches when I look at Owen. He’s leaning over, his forearm resting on the tile, his forehead on his arm.
There’s a black… tube? Attached to the wall and he’s moving his dick in and out of it slowly. His other hand is on his ass, as if he knew I was standing there. Giving me a view. But his eyes are closed. His lips parted.
It’s so… sexy. I just stare at him, unsure what else to do. If I move, I might call attention to myself and he’ll find out I’ve barged in on him during a private moment. But staying means I’m definitely intruding.
I can’t look away. My dick hardens dramatically and I reach down slowly to grip it through my pants. My breathing is uneven.
Owen’s eyes open, his lips part a little wider. Then he blinks and turns his eyes, looking straight at me. I jump, startled. He doesn’t seem to be surprised or upset that I’m there. His tongue peaks out, licking his lips. I squeeze my dick a little tighter.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. Right now is not the moment I want to talk about my mental breakdown.
“What do you need, baby?” Owen asks, his voice low and sexy, carried to me on the steam from the shower.
My eyes dip immediately. All on their own. My body knows what it wants. I haven’t had Owen since before he brought me home three weeks ago. I ache for him. But fuck, I’m not sure of myself enough to ask for what I need. Not like that.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
I strip clumsily on my way to the shower. Owen catches my arm before I fall on my face while trying to step in. He pulls his cock out of the tube and when he pushes me in front of him, I see it’s a fleshlight. Made to look like a girl. I grimace at it, but Owen urges me to put my dick into it.
Closing my eyes, I imagine it as just a hole. There’s no shape. It’s just a hole.
As soon as my cock touches it, I realize right away that it’s not just a hole. It’s not a girl either, obviously. It’s moving. Waves. Pulses. Contractions. I grunt as I push further into it and feel it throughout my entire body.
My head falls back as I groan.
Owen presses against my back, his lips finding my shoulder and neck.
One hand is still on the wall, but the other moved to my hip.
But his hard cock? That’s nestled between my ass cheeks.
I’m furiously biting my lip so I don’t cry out at the pleasure rocking through me or I might just have lost enough self-consciousness to actually tell him that I want his dick inside me.
Instead, I let him move me. He pulls me backward, the tube thing trying to suck me back in. Using his hips, he plays with just my cockhead inside the thing, the sensation driving me absolutely wild. Then he pushes me forward again, driving my dick in deep until my pelvis hits the toy.
I’m nearly choking at the sensory overload. Combined with his dick rubbing my ass crack, I’m going to lose my mind.
“Feel good?” he asks, dragging his tongue sensually along my neck.
I nod frantically.
Owen keeps moving me. My head remains back on his shoulders, even though I’m nearly drowning in the fall of the water. I have my hands braced on the wall in front of me to keep me on my feet.
“Want to try something else?” he asks. “Something we can do together?”
I hope it’s sex. Those words don’t come out of my mouth, though. I just nod frantically. Owen shoves the lever in, turning off the water, and gently pulls my cock from the magic machine. He pushes the side to turn it off, but leaves it there.
“On the bed,” he tells me, kissing my neck.
I nod and slide my way across the slick tile of the bathroom, practically diving onto the bed. Owen’s chuckle follows me and the light flicks on. Rolling over, I see him disappearing into his closet. My mind jumps to his toy chest and my heart races, wondering what he’s going to pull out.
He returns a minute later and tosses a long silicone tube onto the bed. I stare at it, examining without touching. It’s clear. I can see different textures on the inside.
Thankfully, it’s not long before he’s crawling onto the bed toward me. My heart jackhammers in my chest, trying to bust its way out. With a hand on my chest, Owen gently lays me back and crawls over me, straddling my hips. He holds up the toy and asks, “Ever use one of these before?”
I nearly point out that every penny I have ever had almost always goes to food. Instead, I just shake my head.
“It’s a double-ended sleeve,” he says, flicking open the cap on the tube of lubricant. He squeezes a dollop on my cock and then on his. Tossing the tube aside, he rubs us both.
My eyelids flutter shut, and I groan. It’s been far too long since he’s touched me. Before I’m ready, his hand leaves me, and I grunt in protest. Owen chuckles. His hand is replaced with the tube as he slowly slides it over my cock.
With every inch it swallows, my jaw drops a little further. “Fuck,” I mutter, my head falling back onto the bed. Not that I recall picking it up. I had no idea it could get better until Owen sticks his dick in the other side.
My eyes are wide, mesmerized, as I watch him move us within it. The sleeve isn’t as long as I initially thought since our cockheads touch and rub together when he pushes all the way in. It feels so good, I shiver.
I’m caught between losing myself in the moment, and staring at the way our dicks look inside this contraption. It’s sexy. So fucking hot. I’ve never seen anything like this.
“Feel good?” Owen asks, his voice low and breathless.
“So good,” I say.
“Mm,” he hums. “Wait until I introduce you to the rest of my toys, love.”
My heart stops. It’s not the impending orgasm that’s fluttering just beneath the surface. It’s that word. Love.
I wonder if Owen knows he has the power to set my entire world on fire. And I’d just let it burn.