by Ceves, Nina
“Helps you?” She was breathless.
“Helps me wait,” he growled, kissing a chain of slow, wet kisses down the length of her spine…
Tears flooded her eyes. She had never felt as close to anyone else as she did right at this pure moment in time. Silas was right there with her, waiting until she began her ascent, joining her, his voice crying out, sounding like a wild thing unleashed into the dark autumn night.
* * *
Greta
By the time I read the last word, I was shaky, feeling so much. I looked across the couch at Ben, who was watching me. I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt so exposed, and passionate. Those words: now he knew that I had written them.
“Ben,” I said, my throat feeling dry.
I set my Kindle down, and crawled over to where he sat in the corner, a pillow on his lap. I tugged the pillow off, Ben’s eyes intent on mine, his chest rising and falling quickly. I sat on his lap, running my hands up his chest to the back of his neck. I touched his hair.
“It’s so short now,” I murmured. I used to be able to grab a handful of his hair, loving the feel of it between my fingers.
“You don’t like it,” he whispered, looking at my mouth.
“I love it,” I whispered back, scratching my nails lightly on the back of his head and neck. “Love it. Love you.”
“Can I kiss you,” he said, not making it a question, his voice hoarse.
I nodded. He took my head in his hands and then stopped.
“Greta,” he said, very low. “Just kissing. Just right here. Okay?”
I breathed in and out, touching his jaw.
“I want more,” I admitted.
Ben shook his head, his expression stern. “Not gonna happen.”
I tried to kiss him, but he held my head gently, but firmly. He shook his head, slowly. I sighed in frustration, but nodded my head. I wanted him even more now. “Whatever you say, Benjamin.”
He nodded, and pulled me closer.
Our lips met, our tongues colliding. We kissed until I was breathing in little gasps. Ben eased me down on the couch, stretched on top of me, kissing me. I knew he had to be feeling frustrated, as needy as I was feeling.
“Ben… more,” I whispered into his ear.
He pulled his head back from kissing my ear, his eyes stormy. He shook his head silently.
“Who made you the boss,” I laughed, half angry, half amused.
“Me,” he growled, kissing my mouth again, his tongue lazily exploring and tasting. I wriggled, and Ben shifted on top of me. Did he know what he had done? I made a sound. Ben drew back just a little, looking at my face. He looked as though he knew exactly what he was doing, a knowing and erotic expression hot in his eyes.
“I’m just kissing you,” he said, his voice so dark and sexy. “Just… kissing… you.”
Biting my lower lip softly, he pressed against me, and I cried out, trembling. “Ben!”
Ben slid his tongue in my mouth, eased his weight a little more onto me, and pressed against me and that was it, I felt as though I cracked open and shattered into a million pieces of light, scattering.
I opened my eyes, moments later, unable to catch my breath, to see Ben looking into my face. He was stroking my hair back, his expression thrilled and anguished.
“You good?” he whispered.
“Ben, oh, Ben,” I said, brokenly, a lump in my throat. I lifted my hands, stroked his face. “Now you. You.” I began to move, sliding my hands from his back to his hips. He caught my hands.
“Nope,” he said gently, amusement and affection and passion all there in his expression. He grasped my wrists in one hand, above my head for a moment while he kissed me, slowly.
“Sex boss,” I laughed, feeling giddy.
“Yep,” he nodded.
I was thrilled, and shy, still tingling all over.
* * *
“Your scent intoxicates me,” murmured Silas, holding her closely in the glow from the embers in the fireplace. He kissed her neck, sweetly and slowly.
Sera was still catching her breath, trembling all over. She reached behind her and stroked his long hair. “So soft.”
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Silas leaned forward to see her face. His hair slipped lower down on her chest, tickling her.
“I’m good,” she said, sighing. “What about you, want me to make you a sandwich or something? Hey, is the food I have… okay for you?”
“What, you think I need special fox food?” he laughed softly.
“Shut up,” laughed Sera, “it’s not as though I’ve dated a shifter before.”
“Dated…? You and I? We’re mated.”
“Wait, that sounds…”
“For life.”
* * *
Ben
Take care of Greta.
I must have looked different when I walked into work. Maybe it was my expression, or how I carried myself, I don’t know. But Scott, Laura, and Alma stopped what they were doing and stared at me, when I came in the door. I stopped, looking back at them.
“What?” I asked, looking down at myself, then back at the three of them.
“Oh, hi,” said Alma, looking down quickly, getting back to work.
“Morning, sunshine,” smiled Laura, heading for the supply room.
Scott just crossed his arms and smiled at me.
I smiled, nodded, feeling embarrassed, and sat down at my desk. Scott came and hang over the cubicle wall.
“So….?” He raised his eyebrows.
I looked steadily at him.
“Oh, you are no fun,” he pouted. “Let me live vicariously through you! Patrick and I…” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then patted it back in place.
“Have you ever tried reading to each other?” I asked. I wondered if there were any romantic novels for guys who like guys. There had to be. I sent a quick text to Greta, asking her.
“Reading to each other? Like, from relationship books? I’ve been reading How to Help When it Hurts: Saving Your Marriage from the Inside Out, a Guide for Couples Feeling Hopeless about their Marriage by Dr. Elinor Holland-Strathmore, PhD. But, I have not been reading it out loud to Patrick.” Scott looked both eager and doubtful at the same time.
I showed my phone to Scott. Greta had just texted a link to a novel.
“The Secret Boyfriend by D.R. Robbs,” read Scott. “Hm, so… what? A little story time for grown ups?”
I shrugged, then looked up at him, grinning.
“What, you get a little story time going on? Get your juice box and cookies?” Scott nodded slyly.
“Uh, I don’t know where you’re going with this? But I’m starting to feel uncomfortable…” I laughed.
“I don’t even know,” he admitted. “I’m obviously overwrought.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to stop laughing.
“I’ll try anything,” he said, getting out his phone and having me send him the title and author link. “I’m sending you the spa day gift certificate now, you can print it out. There’s a link and everything about the spa. I was going to suggest meeting for brunch first, but then I thought they should have the all day spa package.”
“Thanks. And… Patrick is lucky to have you,” I said, “I know how much you love him.”
“Thanks,” he smiled. “I’m the lucky one, believe me. Someday I’ll tell you about how the two of us met. I was an absolute wreck before he showed up in my life.”
Scott went back to his desk and I worked hard, the time slipping by as I created a line of labels for a family owned salsa company.
Greta
When Ben got home, he had a surprise for me: a bouquet of beautiful pink and white striped roses. Nestled in them was a card, and it turns out it was a gift certificate for a spa day on Saturday. I was speechless. I’d never been to a spa before.
“I’ll feel like a bride!” I blurted, then hugged Ben, hiding my face.
“A bride?” He smoothed his hands up and down my back. “Wou
ld you marry me all over again?” He asked me, going still.
“Of course I would,” I said, holding him closer, my eyes filling with tears.
Ben sank to his knees and looked up at me, completely serious. “Greta, will you stay married to me?”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. This was happening. This was my life. This amazing man, who I was more in love with each day, was pledging his devotion, all over again. Ben would choose me, all over again. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.
“Yes,” I said vehemently, blinking back tears. “I love you, Ben. I always have. I always will.”
He stood up slowly, and looked into my eyes. My stomach felt as though it did a complete somersault. Maybe a cartwheel, even. There was so much tenderness and affection in his expression, deep within his eyes, but also an edgy need, as well. I stepped backwards, tugging his hand. He looked warningly at me, and slowed, but I backed into the guest room, raising my eyebrows, pulling him with me. He came willingly.
I stood with my legs against the bed and pulled off my shirt, hearing Ben catch his breath. I leaned back and stretched out on the bed, Ben standing still in the center of the room, staring at me. I lifted my hips up and tugged my old striped pajama bottoms down, then raised my legs. “Pull?”
Ben took my pajama bottom legs and pulled them off, and there I was, completely naked in the shadowy light from the hallway. Except for my socks. I lifted my feet, one at a time, and he pulled them off. Sockless.
With an exhalation, Ben was suddenly on top of me, kissing my neck, and running his hand down my side, then cupping my face.
“You have way too many clothes on,” I said, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.
“It helps me,” he said, breathing heavily, looking down at me.
“Helps you?” I asked, beginning to smile
“Helps me wait,” he growled, flashing a grin.
“No more waiting,” I laughed breathlessly, watching while he pulled off his shirt. He leaned down to kiss me again, but I put a hand on his chest. “Everything.”
Later: I woke up in the middle of the night, at first wondering where I was. The feel of Ben’s arm around me brought the entire evening back to me. I tried to keep still, not wanting to wake him, savoring the feel of him so close to me. I was thirsty, though, so I started to slide out from under his arm.
“Where you going?” Ben mumbled against me, holding me tighter.
I turned to face him, kissing his neck, jaw, and cheek. “I’m thirsty. You want some water?”
He opened his eyes slowly, starting to smile at me. He pulled me closer. I bit his shoulder and got up. I brought a glass of water for Ben, and we sat up together, in the dark.
“I’ve got to admit,” he said, in a scratchy, sleepy voice, “more than a few times? I caught myself wondering if Mireya Santos was married, or had a boyfriend, thinking he was a lucky guy to be the recipient of all that, ah, imagination.”
“You had a crush on her, didn’t you?” I said in mock outrage. “Didn’t you? And it was me!”
“No, no I didn’t,” laughed Ben. “I was too busy crushing on my wife.”
“Truth is, she is the lucky one. Her writing is inspired by all the love and sexy times with her husband,” I said, stroking Ben’s hair.
“I still can’t believe, all those times I was reading, those words were written by you.”
“Did you ever do any one handed reading? Reading the Silas book?” I tickled his side.
“One handed reading?” Ben laughed, grabbing my hand.
I nodded.
“Oh, that is naughty,” he said, pulling me closer.
“Admit it!” I sat on him, and hit him with a pillow.
“And now there’s spanking? This just gets raunchier and raunchier.” Ben grabbed the pillow and pinned me, and kissed me. “And… yes, of course.”
Ben
Greta’s the one with the way with words. What could I say? How could I describe — everything? The feel of her, to be with her again, like that.
No words.
Greta
In the morning, I rushed out of condo to meet Patrick at Cafe Rosita. I felt as though I were flying.
In the cafe, Patrick stood up, and held my chair out for me. His actions were that of a proper gentleman, but his words were anything but. “Damn, girl, you look like you got lucky last night!”
I covered my face, laughing.
“Totes jelly,” he glowered. “You look as though you’ve just come from a spa day and I didn’t mean it like that. And here I am all haggard, rapidly aging as we speak.”
I protested, insisting that he looked as handsome as always. He has delicate features, golden brown eyes and dark auburn hair. He had become very strong looking, and I told him so. We caught up a little about what we’d been doing, at first generally, and then a little more in depth. I couldn’t believe all the heartache he and Scott had been through regarding their attempts to become parents.
“Patrick, I’m so sorry. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk, or if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thanks, Grets. I’m not the best at reaching out when I need to. I know we haven’t been in touch much this last year or so. But, the times we’ve all hung out, and last year, when we all went to brunch and we sat next to each other, I wished that we were, well, friends.” He looked down, arranging his flatware precisely.
“After that brunch, guess what I said to Ben? I literally said, I wished you were my brother.” I leaned forward, nodding.
He looked up, slowly smiling. “For reals?”
“Yes! I actually said those words!”
He sighed happily, gazing at me. “Aaaand now we’re best friends.”
“Heck yeah,” I grinned.
After breakfast we stopped at consignment store on Central Ave. Patrick explained how he loved to find gently used high-end items of clothing, and then alter them. I usually shopped at the clearance rack at Target, so I followed him around, listening to his every word.
“I’ll bet pants never fit you well,” he said seriously. “They gap at the back, and you wear long tees to cover that, don’t you?”
“I do!” How had he known that?
“And the shirts… they’re either too baggy for you or too tight, always, am I right?” He looked me up and down, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable, for some reason.
“How do you know all this?”
“You’ve got this adorable, miniature pin-up girl figure, and modern day, mass produced, off the rack clothes are just une quelle nightmare for you. Just remember, sweetheart. It’s not you, it’s them.”
I nodded solemnly, feeling reassured.
“You had that blue wrap dress, or was it gray, at that brunch?”
“Oh my gosh, Patrick, how do you even remember that?”
“How could I not, you looked amazing. Let’s look at dresses, and skirts, all right? And some shirts to go with the skirts. All I’ll need to do is alter the waistbands. The shirts we find will fit perfectly, once I’ve had a little time with them, I’m sure.”
“Patrick, I really, really appreciate this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.
“I’m having fun,” he said simply.
Later, we sat on sublimely comfortable chairs, our hands and feet soaking in essential oils, swaddled in large mitts. We had seaweed masks on our faces and cucumber slices on our eyes. As the gentle strains of harp music floated through the air, I felt myself drifting off.
“I have a sister,” said Patrick softly.
“You do?”
“Yes, and she lives right here in ABQ.”
“Can I ask… what happened? With her?” I wasn’t sure if he wanted to go there.
“The rest of my family made it clear that they loved the sinner and hated the sin, and if I just… repented, got cured… they’d welcome me home. But.”
“Oh, Patrick, I’m sorry.” My throat hurt, thinking of that.
<
br /> “My sister was the only one who stayed in touch. We’d hang out, do things together. I was so, gosh, so grateful. At least I had one family member, you know? Then I started noticing, how when I talked about my plans to marry Scott, she was quiet. And later.”
He stopped talking for a long moment.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Later, when she and her husband were expecting their first baby, I would talk about how Scott and I would babysit, and how he and I were starting to talk about adoption, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if our children could grow up together… and again: quiet. Until finally, she just kind of blurted that of course I wouldn’t be able to babysit her child with Scott, and of course she felt that he and I should not be fathers. It was this kind of… I don’t know, as though she were stating the obvious.”
“That must have hurt. So, so badly,” I said. I felt tears trickling down my face from underneath the cucumber slices.
“Gosh, sorry to get all gloomy on our spa day, it’s just that when you said you wished you had a brother like me, maybe you were just being sweet, that’s cool, but it meant so much to me.” Patrick’s voice was very quiet and shaky.
“Patrick, I didn’t tell Ben that I wished I had a brother like you. I said I wished you were my brother. I do. You would be my absolute favorite brother.” By this time I was sitting up, I lifted my hands to my face, remembered I had mitts on, and then tipped my head so that the cucumbers fell into my lap.
He heard me floundering around and sat up. He waved his mitted hands around. “Gah!”
“Sit up, and tilt your head forward,” I urged.
His cucumbers dropped off and he stared at me, clamping his lips together, sniffing. “That’s it. I’ve just adopted you as my sister. Do I have to make it legal? I will!”
“Done and done,” I grinned. I thought for a moment. I didn’t talk about my family with anyone other than Ben, really. “My parents were really kind to me when I was a little kid. I don’t have any siblings, but so many cousins, aunts, and uncles. It wasn’t until I was in elementary school that I started feeling uncomfortable with a lot of the things my family talked about. Racist, awful, hate speech. Sexist, homophobic. Conspiracy theories that frankly seemed paranoid to me. I would hear one thing at school: be a good friend, diversity rocks. It’s what’s on the inside that matters. And then at home, I would hear a very different rhetoric, you know? I think that is one of the main reasons I want to teach very young children. I can see in my own life how learning about equality and justice can make a difference in one person, and how that can go on and on. My family made it crystal clear that I had to choose: them or Ben. So, Ben is my only family now, the way Scott is your only family now. But hey, you’ve got a sister now, and I’ve got a brother.”