The Reason I Breathe

by CORY CYR

  ~6~

  So getting back to the first night, we fucked. Hey, no one’s here, so I can talk how I want. And I know you love it when I talk smut. You may be older, but I’ve been around a much larger block. Of course, I didn’t know at the time all those tales about you being promiscuous were vastly overstated. Hell, even Trina thought you were a slut. Hey, your words, not mine.

  The next morning, you asked me about my tats. I’d been so caught up in you the previous night that I’d broken my own rule. I didn’t wear a shirt when we slept together. I wanted skin to skin with you. In my passion, I’d forgotten, and now you had questions. You felt my tattoos the night before and knew they concealed something. I didn’t relish the thought of telling you they decorated more than just flesh. They hid a dark and painful past.

  You do know what I’m saying is supposed to piss you off, so wake the fuck up. I am so frustrated. I hate reliving our past. It’s killing me to recall every detail about our first time together. I’m afraid I’ll never know being inside you again.

  §

  I get up and go into the bathroom. Yeah, I do reek. I need a shower. I stare at my watch; it’s three a.m. The nurses won’t be coming in; they won’t want to wake me. I can sneak in a quick one. Same old clothes. I need to tell Trina to bring me some jeans and T-shirts tomorrow. I struggle to unzip my pants and then tug the shirt over my head. My body has changed. I run my hands over my abs. The weight loss is even apparent to me.

  I quickly shower, then throw my clothes back on. As I sit in the chair next to Ryan’s bed, I towel-dry my hair. It’s going on two months. I haven’t heard her voice, seen her expressions, known her laugh, or felt her touch. I get up and toss the wet towel over the shower door and grab a handful of tissue. I feel the overwhelming need to purge all this pain that’s eating away at me. Maybe I didn’t love her enough. Maybe nothing I did has ever been enough.

  I blow my nose as I comb my fingers through my wet hair. The cot Lynne brought me looks extremely inviting. For the first time in weeks, I am weary. My body is physically exhausted, and I wish my brain would shut off. Maybe I should try to close my eyes. I’ll do that after I finish our first time together. As painful as it is reliving these memories, I need to share them with her in my own words. I need to remember.

  §

  That first night, I knew the second you realized I felt wrong. Your body language changed and I could sense confusion. I wasn’t drunk, so I knew. I tried to deter you from asking questions. I was lucky because you were slightly inebriated, which helped me. I had many ideas to keep your mind and body occupied. There would be time later for the Q&A session I knew would eventually surface.

  Then you poured liquor on my nipple and took a lick. I wanted to fuck you right then. But I had to be patient and use some self-restraint. My mind focused on foreplay. I wanted to make you really beg for me. I wanted to watch you unravel. I reached up and unhooked your bra. To keep your mind off my tattoos, I pushed your hands away and licked your nipples too, minus the booze. Tracing each one carefully with my tongue and sucking them into a dainty point. I was hard again in seconds.

  Your hands went immediately to my chest, and I had to ply them away. Maybe we should have talked before we had sex. But then I’d always wonder if it was a pity fuck. I wasn’t ready at that point to play twenty questions. I knew I’d eventually have to tell you, but spoiling the night with my childhood horror stories wasn’t on my agenda.

  I made sure your legs were spread wide. You were so wet I could barely pull your panties down with my teeth. And the way you smelled. I still remember it was like baby powder blended with liquid desire. I nuzzled my nose into your pussy, and I swear it was all I could do to keep from taking a bite.

  I separated your slick, drenched folds and greedily licked, lapping every bit of moisture I could find. I looked up at you through hooded eyes and watched as you threw back your head and moaned. God, you looked beautiful, all flushed and open to me. I parted your swollen lips and found your clit and began nipping and feasting. I’d never had a better meal. As I slipped my tongue in farther, I laved your sweet spot and you began to thrash. You tugged on my hair desperately. I could sense your impending orgasm as you cried out my name. And I wanted to drink it. When you released, it filled my mouth with such a delicious flavor I knew tasting you wouldn’t be enough. I had to be inside you.

  I struggled to get the condoms and put one on. I almost had second thoughts. I hadn’t gone bare in years and the need was almost too great. But I decided until we talked, it would have to wait. I arranged you in one of my favorite positions. I watched your expression. You appeared startled that I had skills. That I wasn’t in a rush. That this wasn’t just about fucking you. I recalled your lips pressed tightly together when I told you I wanted to touch your soul.

  All I knew was you were older and probably more experienced. I wanted you to be satisfied. I wanted to be worthy of you. Fuck, baby, I remember that first time. I wanted to be so deep inside you that I could never climb out. I wanted to get lost—I wanted to live there. I might have acted all macho and shit, but I was nervous. I wanted to rock your world, but what I knew without a doubt that you fucking rocked mine, blew it to pieces, making me useless to ever be with anyone but you.

  I was seated fully inside you, and it felt like a velvet glove embracing me. You were so warm and wet. I knew I was home. I never wanted to be anywhere else. You were so tight, baby. It almost felt like virgin territory. I knew you weren’t, but for a moment, I could pretend. Fantasize I was the first, that no one had ever touched you like I did, that I was your everything. Your pussy locked around my cock and held me tight. It felt as though I were being devoured; I knew lasting long was hopeless. I stroked very slowly, allowing you to adjust, but you pushed for more.

  You know, Ry, I was attempting to prolong us coming. Then you prodded me to go faster, and once your muscles choked my cock, I began to pulsate. I shuddered as I felt my climax spike through my body. God, I’d wanted this to last forever. Hell, I could have stayed like this for days. When you screamed and your fingernails scored my shoulders, I knew I was done. Hell, we both were. Even through the condom, I could feel my hot seed and your orgasm. As I pulled off it off, the slickness of your arousal was everywhere. Our combined scent permeated my room.

  You appeared shocked because I was still hard as a rock. Even though this was natural for me, I had to make sure I stayed ready. I wanted back inside those wet lips. I grabbed another condom and rolled it on. I pulled you on top of me and asked you to ride me. You teased me by dragging your wet pussy across my engorged head. It felt so good. You taunted me until I couldn’t take any more. The feeling of my hard flesh filling you was overwhelming. God, you were insatiable.

  Your hair draped across your flushed nipples, allowing me the view of both breasts when you threw back your head in ecstasy. I felt your arms begin to quiver as your body bowed backward, signaling me you were climaxing. My cock replied by flooding the condom with my come. It was pissing me off that my body responded like a thirteen-year-old boy getting laid for the first time.

  I didn’t want to let you go to sleep. I didn’t want to close my eyes. I was afraid to find out I’d hallucinated the entire night and this wasn’t real. I realized now you tried to talk about your past then. When I think back, I remember many times you attempted to bare your soul. But I allowed you to swallow those worries. Maybe because I sensed they would hurt me. All I knew was that night I wanted to savor. You promised me you weren’t going anywhere, and for that moment, I felt sheltered in the warmth of your arms. I wanted to dwell inside you all night. I loved the way you rode me—I loved you, Ryan.

  ~7~

  When I woke up the next morning. I couldn’t stop staring at you. I’d crept to the bathroom to pee and stopped to look out the window. It had started snowing, and even though I should have been cold as hell because I was naked, I’d never felt as hot because it was you lying in my bed. I’d dreamt of this happening a thousand
times, each one better than the last, yet none of them compared to right here and now.

  Your hair cascaded across your face and you’d pulled the lone blanket I finally gave you up to your chin. Your breathing was soft, and all I could think about was how naked you were. How jealous I was of that blanket. You pushed the waves out of your eyes and away from your face. With one eye cracked open, you sighed when you saw me staring. You briefly mumbled something about a shower and food. You watched me as I pulled on some sweatpants, and I told you to help yourself to anything in my closet. I sat on the edge of the bed and put on a sweatshirt and my boots. I planned to get the apartment toasty warm for you as I fixed breakfast. I got up and went to the closet to grab you some towels.

  Your shyness was apparent as you grabbed the blanket and followed me to the closet. Your eyes stopped briefly on the band of my sweats as your thumb traced the elastic. My body answered the call as my dick became like granite. As much as I wanted to thrust into you right that moment. I knew you were cold—teeth chattering—and hungry—stomach growling. I let you know whatever you desired would happen after a shower and breakfast. I was in no rush to take you because I knew I’d be fucking you all day. I left you in the bedroom as I went outside to gather wood.

  Then I started on omelets and coffee. When you came out dressed in my old gray sweater, I nearly choked on my coffee. You mentioned the snow as I handed you a mug. By your second cup, I noticed you staring. You were checking me out. Hey, I wasn’t complaining. It just occurred to me, with you scrutinizing me from head to toe, the questions would be following. I began to get a sense of uneasiness. I didn’t want anything to ruin our day. I had no idea if this was a one-night stand (I’d had plenty of those) or if you were willing to try for more. I’d never been with anyone older. But truly, Ryan, I’d never considered our age difference. You were always my other half—my heart… my soul.

  Damn, you just blurted it out. You just had to ask me about my tattoos. Of course, I already knew if we planned to be together again, eventually I would have to tell you the entire sordid tale. But how did I tell you what you’d left behind. I grieved for you. I hadn’t known you in the last thirteen years, but somehow I knew my story would shake you to your core. And it did when I pulled my shirt over my head and put your hand to my heart, letting you graze your fingertips across my tats. In the light of morning, every torture I’d known as a child was visible. I observed as your eyes acknowledged truth.

  I stuttered as I told you about my childhood, watching as tears filled your eyes. If I could have saved you the pain, I would have. I loved you too much to share this with you. But you forced my hand. I know when you love somebody, you’re supposed to allocate things—but, baby, I would have shouldered the entire burden of my past if I could.

  You didn’t think I knew you blamed yourself? You thought by sticking around you could have saved me? Possibly, maybe not. What I believed was this. Whatever happened led us to be at that particular point. And I would have suffered through it all over again just to be inside you that first night. Don’t ever carry that weight, because it’s my job. I never wanted you to blame yourself. It wasn’t your task as my babysitter to protect me. God, babe, you didn’t even know.

  When you ran to the bathroom and I heard you sobbing, you killed me. Damn, the knife that went through my heart was painful. That was why I hadn’t wanted to share my past with you. You were the light in the dark days of my life, my reason for being. When I finally got you out of the bathroom, I told you my father had been murdered in prison. I took my thumb and wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. In my mind, everything I’d finally told you was in my past now—to be forgotten. Whatever this was—you and I—this was my future, hopefully our future.

  Your hand glided across my scars as you pressed your lips to my chest, the tip of your tongue outlining the art. I became so hard and I knew I had to have you. You teased me without mercy. I swear I became unhinged when you asked me to choose between a blowjob and fucking you. Really? My mind went very blank. Vixen!

  When you went into your description of each act, I lost it. I grabbed a condom off the nightstand and pulled off my pants in record time. I stripped you naked immediately, tearing your panties away from your body. Your goading had pushed me too far, and I needed to come. Did you mind that I didn’t prep you? I just entered you in one deep thrust. God, your sex gripped me so tight it felt like strangulation. I never broke stroke and you mimicked each one. You were deliciously wet, and I wanted to be enveloped by you. I became so voracious and insatiable I was afraid I might hurt you by impaling too deeply.

  When I climaxed, I was disappointed. I wanted to prolong every glorious moment I was inside you. I could feel my release in the condom, which only fueled the fire to have you bare. What I wanted was to have my seed empty into you without a latex barrier. We’d already had the conversation in regards to you being on birth control, and with that out of the way, both of us would get tested, making protection no longer an issue.

  That was the first time I said I love you. I made sure you understood I’d never said those words to anyone else. I’d whispered them to an illusion many times throughout the last thirteen years. I never thought I’d get the chance to actually say them to you. But to have those three words pass through my lips straight to your face was surreal. I knew you didn’t love me. Hell, at that time, I had no idea you ever would. I was just grateful to have a chance at proving I was the man for you. I waited all this time.

  We spent the rest of the day watching movies, lounging on the sofa, and making love. I knew after being inside you the first time we would never fuck again. I’d only ever make love to you.

  ~8~

  “Anyone home?” I say loudly as I let myself in. I leave the keys dangling in the door as I go to find Trina and Holly. Holly comes barreling around the corner straight into my kneecaps.

  “Whoa, baby girl. Where do you think you’re going? Let me hug you. I feel like I haven’t seen you in days, and Daddy misses you.” She giggles as I swing her up into my arms. Christ, she looks so much like me. Holly has the exact piercing blue eyes, and I know when she becomes of dating age, I’ll require a firearm to keep the boys away. I hug her tightly to my chest. She might look like me, but she’s a miniature version of her mother in every other way. Trina stands stoic as she stares at me after she comes around the corner. Yeah, I know I look like stir-fried shit, but I don’t care and neither does my kid.

  “Come on, Andrew. Let me have her. I’ve been trying to get her down for two hours. Now she’ll never nap,” Trina says as she reaches for Holly.

  “So,” I reply, knowing I probably just overstepped. I can see Trina’s nostrils flare. I’m so not in the mood for an argument.

  She takes Holly from my arms and stomps down the hall. I’m not sure if I should follow or not. I need food, clean clothes, and probably another shower. I pad down the hall and lean into the guest bedroom. My sister has it all set up as a nursery. I watch as Trina lays her down.

  “Now, Holly, close your eyes and take a little nap. Uncle Quinn will be home in an hour and maybe you two can watch a movie before dinner. Please try for me. You’re tired, sweetie.”

  Trina stands and comes toward me, pushing me aside so she can shut the door slightly.

  “What?” I ask innocently as I shuffle behind her to the kitchen.

  “You look like hell, Andrew. When’s the last time you’ve eaten, slept, or for that fact, bathed?” she whispers as she wrinkles her nose.

  “I took a shower yesterday. I just need clean clothes and a new razor,” I reply as I rake my beard against her arm jokily.

  “Get away from me, asshole,” she hisses as she twists away from me and leans against the kitchen island.

  “Jesus, Trina, give it a rest. I know. I look like shit, smell like shit. I’m an irresponsible father and probably a lousy husband,” I say as I scoot out a dining room chair. Exhausted, I lay my head on the table.

  Trina pulls out the c
hair next to me.

  “Your daughter misses you. God, Andrew. She cries every night. Either Quinn or I have to get up and rock her. She doesn’t know what’s happening. I told her Mommy is sleeping and you’re watching over her. But she doesn’t understand. She’s too little,” Trina says as she slumps her shoulders and exhales deeply. “How long do you think you can keep this up? I’m worried about you. I’m scared for Ryan. But you. God, Andrew, I’m so afraid for you and I don’t know how to help.” She grasps my hand in hers and squeezes.

  “There’s nothing you can do for me. I’ll do this forever if I have to. I’ll never leave her, Trina.”

  “But Holly needs you too. You can’t just abandon her.”

  “I’m not abandoning her. She’s with her aunt. I don’t know what you want me to do. She’s my wife. Your sister. Do you want me to choose? Is that what you expect?”

  She stands up and goes to the refrigerator, pulling out a loaf of bread, lunchmeat, and other sandwich fixings.

  “Let me fix you something to eat. Better yet, stay for dinner. Have one home-cooked meal. Eat with your daughter. Take a hot shower, shave, and I’ll give you some clothes of Quinn’s. Take a break, Andrew. Just for tonight.”

  I stand up and walk over to her. “I can’t,” I say adamantly.

  “You mean you won’t,” she says as she slams down the jar of mayonnaise.

  “You don’t get it. I have to be there. I can’t leave her alone. I need to be with her,” I say, my voice shaking.

  “Andrew. You need to prepare yourself, because she may never—”

  “Shut up, Trina… Don’t you fucking say it. Don’t you think it. Goddamn you,” I yell as I step back and knock over the chair. My fingers grip the back to pull it back up before it clatters on the floor. My grasp is so tight my knuckles turn white as my face pales.