Afire: Entire Blinded Series (11 page)

What else? Oh, I saw your mum today. She looked at me like I was a piece of shit at first. Stared right down her nose at me. I smiled like nothing was wrong, gave her a wave. She stared for a bit longer then smiled back. Talk about fucking with my mind! I thought she hated me. Then again, she probably does. Maybe she smiled because she thought I'd stop and speak to her and she could find out where you are. Not likely I'll be telling her anything. Sorry to say it, but you're better off without her.

Anyway, I've gotta shoot downstairs and eat. Fucking starving. I'll give you a ring soon. Catch you later.

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Ryan's emails, ah, they make me wish I'd never left. Make me wish I could see him, even if only for a minute. And he'd said he wanted to leave town. I should have mentioned him coming here when I wrote back but I didn't. I could kick myself now. Perfect opportunity missed. Damn me and my bloody issues. I should have asked him here, told him he was welcome any time. Then again, there's always the phone call in a bit. Yeah right, like I'm going to find it easier to
say
. Fuck.

Me resting here like this, head on the sofa arm, legs crossed...anyone looking through the window would think I had it made. Single bloke, no one telling me what to do, no one expecting anything of me once I get home and close the front door. Funny how we think like that when we
know
from our own experiences that everyone has stuff they wrestle with. Everyone has problems they'd like to get rid of. Everyone has things they'd like to say but can't. Fear of rejection, that's my problem, and no amount of reassurance from Ryan will change that. I do know I need to tell him things but...

The phone rings, startling me even though I've been waiting for it. I press the answer button, smiling at seeing Ryan's name on the small screen. “All right?"

"Yeah, you?"

God, his voice just makes everything all better. Right
.

"Yeah, not too bad. Tired. Glad it's the weekend.” I pause, willing myself to come out and say something, anything so he knows I want him here. “Glad you rang.” Shit, that wasn't what I meant to say, but it'll have to do.

"I was a bit worried you'd be pissed off with me."

His voice hums through me, burning everything away. The bad thoughts. The insecurities. The loneliness. “Why?"

"Me mentioning Trevor and your mum in that email."

I frown. “Didn't you get my reply?"

"Shit. That would help, wouldn't it? I didn't check for one. Just ate my dinner, showered, then rang you. Hang on and I'll pull it up."

Scuffles sound, like he's wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder, and I can see him doing it, face all scrunched up as he concentrates. “I didn't say much. Just bullshit mainly. You didn't upset me anyway."

"Ah, right. I see that now."

He mumbles my written words, and I imagine him in his darkened room, the monitor glow highlighting his cheekbones, his jaw, and damn, I want him. Want him here where I can touch and kiss and smell and fuck. My cock hardens, tenting up my joggers, and I loose an unsteady breath to try and calm my racing heart. He does this to me every time. I open my mouth to tell him, explain what I'm feeling while I'm feeling it. Shyness, the inability to express my emotions, and the clearing of his throat stops me.

"Read it,” he says, voice catching. “I miss you, man."

I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, and clamp my teeth together to stop myself blurting everything out. Silence rules the line for a moment, then his breathing triggers me into speaking.

"Miss you too. I...I...had a shit day at work myself too.”
Fuck, I didn't mean to say that.

"Yeah? You got a guy at your place like I have at mine?"

I laugh. “Nah, just had a crap day. Friday and all that. Wanting to get out of that place. What are you up to this weekend? Anything?”
Please say you'll come here. Please tell me you'll get on a coach and spend two days with me
.

"Doing a lot of fuck all, to be honest.” He pauses, then, “Actually, scrap that. Just remembered I need to help Dad paint his living room. He moved out, didn't he, what with them getting divorced. Shit, I still can't get over that. Thought they'd be set for life, but people change, don't they? And Mum hasn't said whether she knows I'm doing it or not—not that she'd mind. He's still my dad. I haven't seen her for a few days. Must pop round there really. And I need to clean this shit-hole up. Living on your own sucks like that.” He sighs. “Painting isn't something I really want to do, but hey, saves me being bored. Like I told you the other night, I've given up going clubbing. Realised it isn't my scene. It's like I wanted to try it just to see what went on, how it was, then wondered what all the fuss was about. And bumping into people from school, pissed out of their heads or fucked on drugs...it's all bullshit. Can't be arsed. Would rather be ringing you anyway."

It's the perfect time for me to open my mouth and lead the conversation down a road I should have led it a long time ago, but my throat tightens. Instead, I say, “I've never been. Doesn't appeal. The gym does me for entertainment. That and the TV and books. Bit of a boring bastard, really."

"Only you think you're boring. So, you don't reckon you'll be wanting to get out there and mingle, then?"

Did he say what I thought he did? Asking if I'm seeing someone else without coming right out with it? Surely he knows how I feel. I never mention anyone; all right, occasionally Josh and Sue but... I should put his mind at rest.

"Nope. Got no need to go out, have I?"

"Haven't you? Why's that, then?"

"Too tired by the weekend for one thing.”
Shit. Just say it!

"And...?"

"And I just...just don't want to go out."

"Ah, right. Doing anything this weekend? Meeting anyone?"

He's worried, yet I'm still hedging on telling him I'm waiting for him. I don't want to influence his decisions. The need to come here has to be his choice.

"Nope. Planned on staying home."

"Alone?"

"Yep.”
Tell him. Ask him
. “D'you... D'you...reckon Trevor will be put away for a long time, then?”
Brilliant, Lee, just fucking brilliant
.

Ryan sighs. “Dunno. I'd like to think so. Be interesting to see how his mates behave without their boss, know what I mean?"

"Yeah. You seen them without him around?"

I listen while Ryan talks, let his voice wash over me, around me, through me, and my hand strays inside my joggers. I palm my hard cock, wishing his hand covered it, his fingertips tracing the tip, circling the head. I remember the way he'd ground against me on my last night back home, how his silky skin brushed mine, our cocks squashed together. And my legs had turned to jelly, my need to have him closer an urgent force that took my breath away. I gasp now, blushing at my actions, and Ryan stops talking.

After a beat he asks, “You all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just ignore me."

"You tired? You yawned then."

"Sorry. Didn't mean—"

"Hey, get some sleep. It's all right. I'll give you a ring tomorrow, yeah? That's if we get the painting done in good time.

My lie has effectively ended the call and will take him away before I'm ready to let him go. I curse myself.

"All right, but I don't mind talking, you know. I'm all right."

"No. You're tired. Time for me to hit the sack anyway."

Ryan's never been one to turn in early.
Fuck.
I grimace and stare at the ceiling. “Okay."

"I'll email tomorrow if I have time, yeah?"

"Yeah. That'll be good. See you."

"Yep, see you."

He's gone, taken his ability to burn with him, and I clutch the phone to my chest, lost, hollow inside. My cock's still hard, still needing attention, and despite feeling sad I fist it, the desire to come a strong sensation that fills me. I work faster, harder, bucking my hips to mimic thrusts, and a thought arrives unbidden, one I've entertained before. Ryan tying my hands and fucking my ass. My imagination runs riot, and I allow the images to flicker in my mind's eye, relying on what I think it would be like rather than from experience. His cock fills me, stretches my hole, sending socks of pleasure-pain into the base of my balls and throughout my cock. He moves slowly, and I do the same with my hand, squeezing tightly to mirror what my ass-hole would feel like around his dick. Pressure mounts in my balls, and my ass-hole clenches. Fuck, I need him inside me, his hand fisting my cock, rope chafing my bound wrists. I jerk away my jogger's waistband with the back of my hand, the cool air wrapping itself around my cock-tip. Opening my eyes, I look down at myself, taking in the sight of my hand going up and down. It proves too much. Cum spurts, landing hot and fast on my belly, and a rush of pleasure surges through me. I squeeze my eyes closed and lift my ass from the sofa, toes splayed, jerking my cock in and out of my fist. I see Ryan, feel him working my ass, and another rope of cum leaves me, widening my cock and setting my teeth to clenching.

I cry out in part pleasure, part yearning, and huff out a stuttered breath. I grip the sofa back with my free hand, fingers digging into it, and lower my ass as another orgasmic spasm overtakes my body. I slow my hand, aftershocks stabbing my cock, and lay still, spent and out of breath. Sweat prickles my temples and glides down into a neck crease. I open my eyes, see stars glittering in the air above, and wait for my body to return to normal. Blinking to clear my vision, I wipe the cum with my T-shirt, wishing Ryan's tongue lapped it up. Would he want to taste it? Do all the things to me that I wanted? How would he take me asking him to tie my hands? I don't know, don't know anything much about that because we haven't talked about it. Haven't really discussed our last night together, either. We've just chatted as mates, like we always did before, and skirted around what we both probably want to talk about.

This has to stop, doesn't it? This pussy-footing around and shit. We need to get stuff out in the open.

I tuck my cock inside my joggers and sit up, taking off my T-shirt, and stare ahead at the electric fire and the novels on the bookshelf. I'm going to send Ryan an email. Tell him what I want. Need.

I lift the laptop to my knees and boot up, logging onto my email account. I pause while thinking what to say, knowing I need to speak up but not knowing how to put it. And in my usual fashion I tap the keys, saying the only thing that feels right.

Miss you.

Sleep doesn't want to come, despite how tired I am. My body's shattered, but my mind is wide awake, pinging from one thought to the next, all of them whirring around, a whirlpool of indecision and what ifs. I'm a prick, you know? I risk losing the only person I've ever loved besides Dad, and all because I can't open my mouth and spill out my feelings.

I can't keep thinking about this. Going on and on about it.

I stare at the window. A cloud must have covered the moon and shunted away, because moonlight sneaks through a wide chink in the curtains where I've left the blackout blind rolled up. The shaft splashes onto the wall, an oblong of silver. It's like a projector screen, and Ryan's face appears on it, frown in place, mouth downturned. Have I made him unhappy by my inability to tell him what he plainly wants to hear? I reckon I have. Shit. No one told me this would be so hard. No one explained that love can rip you up, fuck you up, and make you happy at the same time. Yet I chose this damn route. Chose this solitary life. I only have myself to blame.

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Time passes quickly yet not. How has another two years gone by without me sharing my inner feelings with Ryan? How has he put up with keeping in touch but not visiting? Weird, because everything's the same but different. It's like I've grown up a bit but the child within lurks, worried, fretful, alone. Ryan still emails and calls. My job's the same as it was. Josh and Sue are just Josh and Sue, and Josh is in the living room now, over for a beer and a movie. What am I doing standing in the kitchen, staring out the window when my mate's in there? The usual thoughts batter my head, erasing my concern about Josh and my duty as host. Maybe, after all this time, I've pushed Ryan away from the idea of us getting together. Maybe he thinks if he asks to come I'll tell him to fuck off, that I just want to remain friends who live apart.

What a fucking mess
.

I'm ready for him to visit, ready to see him again and make a go of things. Ready to accept who I am, my past, and my future. Without Ryan in it, it isn't worth shit.

I stare out the window for a minute longer, taking in a deep breath and trying to work out what feels wrong tonight. Something's not right, hasn't been since yesterday, like a piece of me disappeared and a fierce freedom took its place. I don't understand it. Don't think anything's happened to trigger it off; not that I know of, anyway. Yet...

My mobile phone rings, and I turn from the window, going into the living room to pick it up. Ryan's name is on screen—shit, I forgot to tell him I was busy tonight. Adrenaline surges through me, and I nod at Josh, who is sprawled out on the sofa, though why I bothered I don't know. He's fixated on the TV and Hannibal Lecter. I go back to the kitchen and answer the call.

"Hello, mate. How're you doing?"

"All right. You?"

His voice—God, it sends shivers through me. Shivers of longing. “Fine, fine. Watching a bit of TV. You?"

"Um, just been for a long walk."

"What? Tell me you're taking the piss.” Ryan going on a long walk is like me telling him how I feel. Unlikely unless pushed.

"Nope. Hill walking."

My eyes widen, and I stifle a laugh. “You? Fucking
hill walking
?"

"Yeah. Listen, I was wondering, d'you feel ready for a visit yet?"

"What, from you?”
Of course from him. Who else? And shit, yes, I want you to visit. Want you here right now, your skin against mine, your voice in my ear
...

"Yeah."

"Fuck yeah. When were you thinking of coming?”
Next weekend? I can get through a week no problem if I know you're coming.