Ryan’s eyes darkened again, and he put it down. He grabbed the box and pulled out a condom, and put it on. There was no hesitation. Narrowing his eyes as he entered her, lifting both legs to his shoulders, he pushed in deep. Kneeling back, he pulled her hips into his lap. For months he’d longed to be inside her again, be hers again. He hummed. Her legs against his chest, feet on his shoulders, her perfect bottom on his thighs, and he watched her pant as he tightened his grip on her waist.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
He stayed still but moved her hips, and the sight of her breasts moving with their motion made it difficult to hold off. She saw it by the way his jaw flexed.
“Em, I can’t hold back.”
“Then don’t.”
“I want you to come with me.”
She reached her hand down, lightly circle her fingers over her clit, already so sensitive, he felt her contract around him, he couldn’t hold back his pace and took her harder. The first sensation of her climax gripped his cock, he cried out and came, but he didn’t stop when he finished, he kept moving her, Em’s whole body twitched and spasmed, and she came hard. As she relaxed and covered her face, he stilled.
“Look at me.” She did, with her pale skin flushed, her nipples stood out, and her lips parted. She was so alluring like that. Her bright eyes were laughing with pleasure. He wanted to tell her he loved her.
They lay together, nestled under the duvet for ages with her head over his heart, and she let herself be lulled by the deep, steady thump of it. Her fingers rounded over his scars absently, his hand lightly played with her hair.
"Em?”
“Hmm?”
“I want to take you out on a date.”
“Okay.” She was half-asleep.
“Good. Tomorrow night?”
“Sure.”
He smiled, oddly calm, and hadn’t realised how tense he had been, all through the summer, ever since they met, and deep into autumn there was a coiled unease, but now it had dissipated, and he relaxed. His eyes closed, and Cap whined at the door.
Pulling on his feet and jeans, he let the dog out and grabbed a drink. This time it would be different, they knew each other’s secrets now, they knew where they stood, and it was going to be all right, he knew it.
Twelve. Same page
Ryan sat in his car, nervous. He’d had a haircut, it finished just beneath his eyes, combed back, but a lock had already fallen forward. He pushed it back, taking a deep breath.
It hadn’t been weird in the morning when they woke up, in fact, Em had woken up with one thing in mind, and he obliged. He smiled at the memory. Part of him just wanted to take her as soon as she opened the door, and he knew she’d welcome it. But he wanted to do this properly.
He took another breath and got out. He carried a large bunch of roses, all different pinks and peaches, with a few red and yellow thrown in.
He knocked the door.
She wore her form fitted blue dress with her hair up, but she was tense.
“Come in I’m nearly ready.” He handed her the flowers and smiled as she smelt them. “Thanks, they’re beautiful.”
She put them in water, put on her shoes, and fussing Cap, she gave her the half-destroyed pile of toys.
He raised a brow.
“She’s working on her separation anxiety. She’s very sensitive about it.” Em whispered, and he sagely nodded. “Your hair looks good.”
“I was well overdue.” He smiled. God, he was beautiful.
“Okay then.” She led them out, and he opened the car door for her.
He drove them to a small and busy Italian place, and she didn’t even know it was there, nestled beneath a pub just off Town Hill.
A family was having a birthday celebration a few tables down, and a young couple with a baby, Em caught his glance as he returned to hers with a reflective expression.
She wondered if he wanted a family, what kind of father he’d be, and she guessed he was thinking the same thing.
He studied her for a minute and imagined what she was wondering.
Cleared his throat, he ventured. “What about you Em, do you want children?”
“I’m not one that coos over babies, I’ve never been that woman. If it happened, with you I mean, I’d be happy.” She felt the heat in her face but thought about it. “We’d be good parents, seeing as we know not what to do. You?”
“Honestly, I never wanted kids, but the older I get, the more I think that if it were to happen, it would be okay, but whenever I picture myself with children, I see myself fostering and adopting. There are so many kids like me in the system who are no longer babies, but people, some with problems, vulnerable and alone. I picture myself doing what no one did for me.”
She swallowed as tears filled her eyes. “That’s lovely.”
“Not everyone would want that. It doesn’t frighten or disappoint you?”
He busied himself with something on the table, and she smiled at his nerves. She could picture it, Ryan as an adoptive daddy, oh God, it was beautiful, and it made him sexier if anything. She took a deep breath.
“No, it seems like a splendid thing to do. Lord knows I’ve never really wanted my own children.” She held his eye, and he tried not to smile as he nodded.
They both let that sink in but were distracted as their food came.
After dinner, they walked outside in the warm air.
“I can take you home, but if you want to, we could do something.”
“Such as?”
“Cinema, bowling?” Em laughed.
“No, no, all wrong. It’s movie first so that you can talk about it during the meal. If you wanted to take me bowling, you should have said, and I’d have worn something more appropriate. I can’t bowl in this.”
“I’d like to see that.” She laughed. “Pool? Oh, I know karaoke.”
“I sing like a dying dog, I make Cap howl, and Jess cried once.”
“Now that I do want to see.”
“Wait, do you do karaoke?”
“It’s happened.”
“Fuck it, this I have to see.”
“Come on then.”
She grinned as they walked, fingers entwined, not knowing where they were going, and not caring, making herself trust in him.
There was a pub on the other side of Town Hill, near the new end, but it had been there for years, it was an old-fashioned place. Etched mirrors lined the back of the intricately carved bar, bottles lining the shelves. Polished wooden bar, stripped floors, and slightly battered tables. It had a few pool tables and a little stage.
It reminded her of the Stage and Arrow Pub in Haybrick Lane, in London; she had spent so much time in that pub. Memories of lock-ins after the theatre closed, and dirty brunches the morning after washed over her. Ryan took her hand, it was warm and strong, she smiled, and the past clashed with the present. Her eyes flickered.
“So, this place has a karaoke night once a month, it was the bar the guys used to go to all the time.”
He was still holding her hand as they went to the bar. A few people waved and appraised Em. Someone was murdering an eighties rock song.
Two beers and two shots were lined up.
“Are you getting me drunk?”
“Might be.” He grinned, and she necked the shot with him, they tapped their glasses down in unison.
Ryan weaved them through the crowd and was different, chattier and relaxed. He smiled more, and interact with a few people he knew.
They muscled into the shallow bar at the wall, and he snagged her a stool. She wriggled onto it. She watched him cuff his sleeves to his elbows, making her want him there and then, unable to look away from his arms.
“Do you want to put your name down?”
“No way in hell am I singing. Dance, fine, I can stand in front of a crowd in what equates to little more than a condom and a bucket of lube, but I’m good at that, this, not so muc
h. Why don’t you show me what you got because I cannot see you singing.”
“So, confession time.”
“Oh shit,” she grinned.
“I don’t own a TV. I have never owned one. I don’t play video games. I don’t have a computer. Just a phone and a tablet, I only use that for reading. I never bought Cd’s or records. But I love music. All music. Well, not all music, but varied music. I download it, but I don’t have the stuff that takes up space.
“That wasn’t my point, anyway, Capta has therapy programmes, music being one, I picked up a bit of guitar, I don’t own one, but I’d play other people’s. So I realised I can sing a bit. When I left rehab and went to work, we’d come here to hang out.” He gestured to the stage, “so I got up and sang.”
Em smiled. “Dark horse,” she narrowed her eyes. “Well, go on, sign up and impress me.”
He peered into her eyes and nodded.
When he was called up, part way through their beers, the crowd cheered, and her heart beat hard for him.
He tried not to grin as he got up there. “Easy,” he said into the microphone, gesturing for everyone to simmer down, and there were a few heckles in response. Everyone laughed.
When the opening bars of the song started, Em pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t cry. He sang ‘All of Me’. His deep voice broke a little, in the most attractive way possible. Eyes closed, hand on his chest, and every now and again, he’d open them, looking right at her.
She kept blinking as he sang, beautiful, strong, and difficult, but so gentle and sweet, and he could sing. She wanted to jump him there and then.
As the song finished, the crowd cheered. Em slipped off her stool, put her fingers in her mouth, and gave him a loud wolf whistle. He laughed and left the stage, and downed some beer.
“Okay, that was brilliant.” She beamed at him, his eyes dipped to her lips, but he looked away. Her heart was still pounding.
“Hey!” A loud stocky man with a shaved head thumped Ryan on the back. Ryan turned, they did that half-hug, pat the back thing as they shook hands.
“Who’s your friend here?”
“Jay, this is Em.”
“Em?” Jay’s brows rose up. “Em. As in the Em, Ryan’s Em?”
“The Em, do I warrant a ‘the’? Cute.”
Ryan blushed and swore.
Jay shook her hand. “I’ve heard all about you, so glad to meet you finally.” His smile went from ear to ear.
The guy moved off. Em’s eyes went wide.
“The Em?”
He shrugged, and she laughed. Jay returned and brought his friends.
“Ah, fuck.” Ryan sighed.
“This is Em.”
She politely shook the hands of Ryan’s friends. “So how do you guys know Ryan?”
Jay answered. “Here mostly.”
Ryan ordered them more drinks. He was beginning to regret choosing the bar as their date had turned into hanging out with friends.
She spoke into his ear when he rejoined them. “I thought you didn’t have any other friends.”
“All of the guys are friends, it’s a bit of an army place, well, not really, but the five of us all know each other through Capta, there’s a connection there. Carl was the one who brought me here in the first place.”
“Are you getting up to sing?” one of the guys that had joined them almost leered at her as he asked.
“My singing voice might end lives. It’s not worth the risk.” She leant into Ryan a little, and he settled his arm around her waist.
“Are you getting up again Ryan?”
“Nah, done my turn.”
Em downed her beer, and the guys watched her chug it. She repressed the gas like a pro.
“Besides, I think we’re getting out of here,” Ryan smirked and drank his beer, took her hand, and she stood up.
“Later.” He didn’t look back, leaving his friends behind, as they gave a few whoops and cheers.
“I needed to leave, too much testosterone.”
“They can be a bit full on.”
She took his hand, and they wandered about. “Shit. I drove, I can’t drive you back, one wine, two shots, and two beers, not good.”
“No, it’s not. What shall we do? It’s only nine.”
His eyes took on that dark look making her laugh.
“So far you’ve done a bang up job for our first proper date. Song choice, ten out of ten. Voice quality, hot as fuck. Nice shirt, good restaurant, amazing hair. Doing well.”
He laughed.
“I think you’re a bit tipsy.”
“Hmm, mixing drinks.” He gave a dramatic sigh. S
he circled one ankle, then the other as they stood.
“Do your feet hurt?”
“Consequences of heels; your feet fucking hurt.”
“How do you do it?”
They started walking again. “You tune it out or learn to like it.”
“You are a mystery to me. Nail polish, makeup, heels, little tiny sexy as fuck dresses. I don’t understand it.”
She grinned as he shook his head.
“Social conditioning, gender expectation, sexuality, confidence, one’s own happiness. Part of is about ritual.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For example, I spend time going to a salon, and I go through several rituals, waxing, manicure, facial, whatever. On some deeper unconscious level, it’s a cleansing ritual, or purification thing, to transcend ourselves in a physical sense. Throughout history, societies do it on one level or another.”
“Wow.”
“I know. It’s not as if men don’t do that shit. Well, not to the same levels, but you’d be surprised how many men go and get waxed.”
“Huh.”
He seemed to mull it over.
“Ryan, where are we?”
He blinked and turned around. “Sorry, let’s go back.”
“Yeah, but where are we?”
“I have accidentally taken you halfway to mine. I didn’t mean to.”
“I’ve never seen your place.”
“Not much to see.”
“Lead the way.”
He had second floor flat in a newish sleek and modern building. He didn’t speak as they walked down the hallway. He unlocked the door but hesitated before ushering her in.
She took off her shoes and went past him. The corridor was bare except for a small shelf with a bowl on, where he dropped his keys and led her through to the living room, which only had a dark grey couch, a coffee table, and small round table at the window with two dining chairs.
Thick heavy dark curtains decorated the full-length window. There was nothing else in there. The kitchen too was sparse. She’d bet he had two bowls, two plates, two sets of cutlery, and all of his groceries were neat and uniform.
White tile in a white bathroom with neatly folded towels on the rail. She peeked into the bedroom, same curtains, matching dark sheets, a lamp on the table by the bed, and his tablet was the only haphazard thing in the flat, lying at an angle.
“Spartan.”
“Yeah.”
“Odd, it doesn’t feel like you.”
They looked at each other in the doorway.
“Do you want another drink or tea?”
“No more booze.”
She sipped her tea as they sat on the couch.
“No one has ever been in here.”
“Never?” he shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He slouched down and rested his head back. Even slouching he looked good. His eyes closed.
Em took everything in. “I bet the army made you this neat and tidy, no man is this neat and tidy.”
He flexed jaw and rubbed his face.
She shuffled to the end of the couch. “Come here.” She patted her thigh, and frowning, he cautiously lay down his head on her lap and closed his eyes. She stroked his hair back, and he hummed.
He blinked his eyes open, scowling, and spoke warily. “The army instils that shit, but it was before that.”
Em held her breath. Whatever he was going to tell her was important.
“I only ever remember having a black holdall. I was always afraid whenever I went anywhere new, so I held onto those things because they were all I had to hold onto. Nothing else. Everything was borrowed or shared, people came and went, new houses, new areas. Things were hardly ever mine so when I did get things I took care of them. Those things became important.
“It was always like that. Even if I was somewhere nice, I never stayed, and I never had things of my own. I had to share. That’s okay. But you see how it affects people differently. Some people become destructive, jealous, others cold and withdrawn. I was really quiet, but I wanted approval, to belong, to do well. I wanted someone to say, well, he’s a good kid we’ll keep him. It’s why I went into the army. To belong somewhere and be needed.
“My place is bare because I have things only if I need them. I never buy stuff, for comfort, or because I want it. That mindset is alien to me. But you’re right. Everything is immaculate.”
Em’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t want pity.”
“I don’t pity you. Thank you, for sharing that.”
He nodded, drained and tired. She shifted from under him and curled up on top of him, so they lay on the settee together, her hands went to his face, and she looked him in the eye. “What I want to do is go back in time, and see you as that little boy.”
He shook his head and pursed his lips.
“I can picture you with your bag in hand. I would kneel down to you, and I would put my arms around you and hold you tightly. I would sing you songs, and give you toys.”
“Em.” His voice was sharp.
“I would keep the monsters at bay at night, I would whisper to you, how it would be okay, and that you were loved.”
He was rigid as he lay there, with her whispered words conjuring everything he had ever wanted. He held onto her tightly.
“You’re right, we both have problems, and we want to do better. How about this: we forgive each other when we fuck up. Make allowances. We continue to get the help we need, but support each other through it. Ryan, this is intense and almost visceral, we’re not in good places, and I guess it’s why we’re so on and off, but I don’t want to lose this.”
The Way Home Page 12
