The Wright Way

Chapter 40 - The Wright Way

Morning light fills the room, illuminating the empty walls, the bare table, the shabby grey sofa and a couple of boxes with my possessions. There wasn't much to pack. The furniture in my old apartment belonged to its owner and most of my clothes were removed by Batya on the night the Wrights invaded the place. As for Joshua, his possessions weren't even enough for one box. Even though he had recovered the access to his bank account, leaving the house to buy things was out of question while we remained under the investigation, and neither of us was in the mood for online shopping. We did stop on our way here to get some food and toiletries for the new home, but that was all.

"Well?" Joshua walks past me and into the sunlit room and drops his bag to the floor. "New life?"

It's still weird to see him with short hair. The witnesses' protection program required for us to change our appearances, and the easiest way to do that was to alter the haircuts. He didn't go for a buzz cut like I did, but his medium-length haircut still looks very different from his previous shoulder-length one. Also, his helping Mrs. Lagana in the garden while we stayed with them has resulted in him getting some tan. Overall, he looks like a different person to the guy I first noticed on the streets and couldn't get out of my head ever since.

I come over to the window and stand behind him. Unlike the urban view I had in my previous apartment, this building faces a park, so all I can see is trees. Down below, a man in a colorful sports tracksuit jogs along the trail. Then comes a woman with a dog, running.

"So quiet," whispers Joshua.

I nod. The last few weeks felt so noisy. There were always people around us or close by, questions to be answered, flashes of cameras trying to catch a snap of me. The silence now feels so strange. No police car is waiting outside, no lawyers in the next room, no reporters jumping out of nowhere. Not even Rhea Lagana to call us downstairs for dinner. We're on our own.

"So," I say. "Let's unpack?"

For the first time in weeks, there's no one to tell me what I should do next. Time feels vague and unstructured now that it's up to me to decide what to fill it with.

Joshua turns around, leaning with his back on the windowsill. He hooks a finger through one of the belt loops of my jeans and tugs at it, pulling me closer, and then, just like that, we are kissing. In this empty and quiet place, it feels so natural.

I pull him away from the window. Breaking the kiss, he gives me a questioning look.

"We could be seen," I say.

"Yeah," he says. "Let's not traumatize the birds and the squirrels." Still, he moves with me and leans with his back against the wall next to the window. "Come here."

"We need to unpack," I say before he lips invade mine again.

"Aha," he says in between kisses. "Lots to unpack, indeed."

My hands slide down, slipping under his T-shirt. The space in my mind that had previously been occupied by a tangle of doubts and shame has been getting empty lately, and I'm eager to fill it with better things. I start pulling his shirt up, but his hands find mine and stop me. I pull back and meet his tense look. He wants to stay clothed. He doesn't trust me enough.

"Take it off," I whisper.

He wrinkles his nose. "It makes me... uncomfortable."

"Does this, too?" I lean over and kiss the side of his neck, its skin still tender, having been until recently concealed by long hair. He chuckles and then draws in a breath and tilts his head a bit, giving my lips better access. His attention distracted, I pull at his shirt up again, meeting no resistance this time. Instead, he rises his hands, helping me to remove it. As it drops to the floor, his hands twitch up instinctively to cover himself. Meeting my eye, he straightens up and lowers his hands, putting them on his hips, looking at me defiantly.

"What?" he says.

"The pants," I say.

"It's chilly."

"I'll warm you up."

He laughs. "You're pretty confident about this, given all the reservations you've had before."

"It feels right." My fingers travel up his naked chest, exploring; as they get to his nipples, he bites his lip and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch.

"I want you," I say.

"Ah, really?" he murmurs, his eyes still closed. "I never would have guessed."

The sofa is narrow and old and we're both surprised by its softness as we fall onto it, but after a bit of giggling and wriggling we get comfy with me lying on top of him. We kiss again, and it feels good, but I'm not sure what comes next. How far am I willing to go with this? What about him?

Sensing my hesitation, he pulls back to look into my eyes. I'm not sure what he's searching for, but, apparently, it's there, for he gives a barely visible nod and his hands dive down to unclasp my belt.

"Get the pants off," he says.

"Only if you do."

"Oh, I positively will have to." He pushes me gently off him and sits up, unzipping his jeans, then nods at his bag by the window. "And get me the stuff I bought today."

I get up and retrieve the half transparent plastic bag filled with the bottles of shampoo and liquid soap and other toiletries.

"Are you going to shower now?"

"What?" He grins, looking up, then gets up to get rid of his jeans. "No, I've showered in the morning. It's not just shampoos." He comes over to me and retrieves from among the plastic bottles a bag of lube a pack of condoms. "Voila." He bows like an illusionist that has performed a magic trick. "Now, let me explain a few things to you."

My cheeks burn hot as he proceeds with the explanations, but he's very matter of fact about the things he's telling me that my temporary shyness quickly gets overridden by arousal. I watch him lose the rest of his clothes, and then help him to prepare himself. We return to the sofa, and it's soft against my knees, but I'm mostly just aware of Joshua's body rubbing against mine, his back to my chest, his belly hot under my palms as I pull him to me.

"Easy now," he whispers, pulling away and then pushing back. He leans on his left hand, his right feeling behind him until he grasps and directs me. "Here. Yeah, like that. Ah, slowly now."

I push inside, thoughtless with desire, only vaguely aware of his request. He lets out a short hiss and moves away again, escaping me, and then returns, and I'm more careful this time. He's so tight I can't fathom how can he not be in pain right now, even with all the lube, but he's not, apparently—to the contrary, he begins to push back, meeting my thrusts that I try to keep slow and shallow.

"A0hh." He arches his back, and I place my hands on both sides of his narrow waist, fixing him where I want him, making sure I don't go too deep too fast. The tight sensation around me feels so good that I moan, and his moan echoes mine as his body thrusts back, making me go almost all the way in.

"Ethan." His back arches under the pressure of my hands, his body melting into mine, submitting, receiving, following my guidance. The sensation of being in control and accepted is as intoxicating as the physical pleasure. "I like it. Harder now. Come on, harder now."

I obey, our bodies slamming together, the small sounds he makes driving me crazy. I begin to abandon my precautions. I quicken the pace, and he accepts me, occasionally moaning when I go too deep but then throwing back for the next thrust. It feels like a dance, our bodies knowing the moves without our minds' help. As we approach the peak, it feels like we're now two separate people anymore, but a single entity, united by pleasure.

I collapse onto him after the release hits me, and then, we lie there, panting. He turns around in my arms and kisses me, and I kiss him back.

"No homo," he says, and I begin to laugh.

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