Coming Out with the Truth

"So it's my birthday next week." I began. I knew John knew. Not only since I was the type of person that highlighted my birthday on my own calendar (and maybe even circled it); we'd mentioned it too. But I wanted to mention it again all the same. I slid my foot down his leg under the table.

"Yeah." John agreed, giving me an amused look. I had to grin back. Something about this man I loved made me absolutely silly. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Well," I began slowly. I wanted to approach this carefully. The first time I'd suggested going out John hadn't said anything approximating a 'no'. The only indication I'd had that he didn't want to be seen with me was that he'd booked a restaurant three towns away. And he'd probably had a story ready in the back of his mind as well. Just in case, of course.

I'd said nothing at the time, but it was past five months now, which meant it was nearly six months, and I was beginning to feel like it was time for John to start getting serious about this. I was starting to feel impatient.

The first two months we'd been 'seeing' each other there had been little involved beyond sex, and lots of it. And it had been damn good. Things were starting to change now, though. Not that I didn't still want to jump him every opportunity -- I did -- but it was more. I'd figured out pretty quick that I'd fallen for him, and hard.

I was desperately hoping that he felt the same. We knew each other a whole lot better now and things just kept getting better. And it felt deeper. More real, all the time.

And yet I had the impression that John would still balk if I took a stand and said that I wanted more, so I hadn't said anything. Instead I was coming up with stupid schemes, to try to get him used to the idea, to ease him into it. I'd tried the last month or so. We'd gone out more. In other towns, of course, but it was still a step along the way. An introduction to the

idea

of possibly being seen.

The truth was that despite getting impatient, I didn't know what to do about it.

I suppose I could have just asked him about it, but I was so in love with him that I was too afraid of pushing him away from me in the slightest. Too afraid of losing him.

Love hadn't just made me happy-stupid. It had made me scared and desperate enough to compromise what I wanted and myself and my standards, all over again.

I slid my toes along the seam of his jeans, up past his knee and along his inner thigh.

John watched me with a smile and heavy lidded eyes. I stifled a grin. This never got old.

"I was thinking," I began, then squeaked as he snapped his knees together, trapping my foot. He laughed and reached under the table to grab my foot and I kept struggling. "No- don't!" I objected- I just knew he was going to tickle me.

"You asked for it," John told me, grinning. One hand held my ankle firmly and he tickled the sole of my foot.

"Stop it! John! No-" was all I managed to get out before I cracked up laughing. I tried to twist my foot away, but he had a good grip on my ankle and it only made things worse. Neither did gripping the edge of the table for leverage and trying to haul my leg back help.

I tried the twisting manoeuvre again, and yelped as I fell out of my chair and onto the floor.

John laughed and the next thing I knew he was leaning over me, under the table as well, pinning me down and tickling me until I could hardly breathe, let alone scream or fight back.

It was only once he'd reduced me to a quivering mass of giggles that he decided that was enough. Then he just lay next to me on his side, watching me with a goofy grin.

Once I finally got a hold of myself I grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him down to kiss me.

John was more than happy to oblige.

So it was that on a Thursday evening we were lying wrapped up around each other under my kitchen table, kissing lightly, like there was nothing more to ever need. And there was nowhere else I wanted to be in the whole wide world.

"So," John finally removed his lips from my skin. "Your birthday." His eyes were warm and golden, made me completely forget what I'd been planning on saying.

"Yeah." I agreed, and cleared my throat. "I, uh... I was thinking." Small steps, I reminded myself. "I know you have to work. But, I thought I'd cook dinner. And I thought maybe you could stay over. I mean, the

whole

night. And then the next day we could go for breakfast somewhere."

"You city people." He teased me lightly. I couldn't read his face.

"What?" I asked blankly.

"Breakfast? Honestly?"

I laughed.

That

was his objection? "Yes." I said firmly. He shook his head, his eyes amused.

"So?" I asked. "Dinner and stay the whole night with me? And then breakfast or lunch depending on how much we want to get out of bed?"

John gave me a look I didn't quite understand, then he gave a soft laugh and nodded. "If that's what you really want." He said, and ducked his head to kiss me again.

I grinned at him.

It was.

September 2009:

John:

"Shhh!" Keith pressed his hands over my mouth and we froze as the phone clicked over to the answering machine. We tried to breathe quietly as we listened to the garbled voice from the hall and I managed to get his hands off my mouth. I was short enough of breath as it was.

"Why do you even have a phone this close to your bedroom?" I demanded. Keith's body was hot and damp against mine. He'd been panting harder than me up until a moment ago.

"Shhhh!" Keith hissed, trying not to laugh and trying to get his hands over my mouth again. "I don't know if they can hear us or not."

I laughed and Keith grabbed a pillow -- obviously I was laughing too loud -- and tried to wrestle it over my head.

Not happening. I wrestled back and we ended up laughing fit to burst and gasping for breath. Luckily, whoever had rung him with birthday wishes had finally hung up.

"Can we get back to the birthday sex now?" I asked idly, as if it wasn't a big deal. As if I wasn't actually already deep inside him and desperate for more. And every time he wriggled around or tried to smother me I just got more desperate.

Keith grinned at me. "Well..." he said in a considering tone. I stroked my fingers up his thighs, up his stomach and up to his nipples. He 'mm'ed softly. His nipples weren't as sensitive as mine, but he still apparently liked the attention. I twisted them lightly and he moaned louder, leaning forward. He brushed his lips against mine, and I fought the urge to claim his mouth with the urgency I was feeling. I fought that and won, but I didn't even try to stop myself from moving my hips and beginning a slow rhythm.

"Oooh, John," Keith murmured. He rested his forehead against my shoulder and I reached in between us and took him in hand. He shuddered and groaned and pushed my hand away. "No," he told me, biting his sentence off strangely and looking up at me with glazed eyes. "You've already sucked me and - and rimmed me to the point- just no. Not until - you want me to cum."

I grinned at him. I liked to know I could bring him to that point- and the point where he couldn't talk clearly. I thrust up into him harder and Keith moaned.

"Like that?" I asked, repeating the same motion. Keith arched into the movement and reached out and grabbed the headboard.

"Uh huh," He gasped. "Yes. John... again. Please." His head was bowed, his eyes squeezed shut. His mouth was half open, and he was gripping the headboard of the bed as if his life depended on it.

I gripped his hips and ground him down against me as I sank deep into him, increasing the pace of my movements.

"John," he managed, panting, tipping his head back. His skin was flushed, damp. I'd been keeping him on tenterhooks for a while now. It was taking its toll on me too.

"It's ok, babe," I murmured, savouring every instant I was inside his hot, slick passage. I was never going to get used to this. I was never going to take it for granted.

"Oh god, I need more," Keith whimpered.

"That's it, babe. You look so hot riding me."

Keith groaned, tipped his head forward again. "John, you're killing me." He gasped. "God, John... fuck..." I liked the combination of those words. I smiled up at him and directed a few short sharp jabs at his prostate. Keith arched and wailed, bit his lip.

His cock was up against his belly, leaking precum.

"John," he said raggedly. He let go of the headboard and leant back on his hands. I moved more slowly inside him. I knew from experience that he'd cum quicker like this and I wanted to draw this out, keep him on edge.

"Oh god," he whispered again, leaning his head back further, his neck so graceful. "John..."

"You feel so good," I murmured to him, running my hands down his thighs. I noted they were trembling.

I pushed myself to a sitting position, gathered Keith into my arms and pulled him closer against me. He kissed me eagerly, his hands sliding into my hair and down my back.

I grabbed a couple of pillows from behind me and struggled to get them behind Keith, in between my knees. It took me a minute, in which Keith switched to tugging on my nipples and nibbling my neck and I nearly forgot totally what I was doing.

After a moment too long letting myself enjoy his caresses, I tried to ease him down and shift with him so I remained inside him as we changed positions.

Keith's eyes were glazed and he didn't exactly help, but all the same I just managed it. If he'd been any larger or heavier it might have been a different story.

He sprawled on his back, his knees spread high and wide.

"John, need more," he moaned. I ignored him, bent forward and licked his nipple. When he whimpered he sounded like he was almost in pain. "John, fuck, so good," he gasped, jerking his hips. I groaned. He was so hot and tight, so wonderful around me. I would never ever ever get tired of this.

"Going to cum for me?" I asked, my voice low and rough.

"God, yes, yes..."

"Not yet," I told him, beginning the long, slow gliding thrusts I knew would drive him wild.

Keith moaned, wound his fingers into his hair. He turned his face eagerly for a kiss when I leant forward again, slid his tongue immediately into my mouth.

"John," he gasped, threading his fingers through my hair, then clutching my shoulders. "God, John, so close, so close... Please..."

"Not yet, babe," I whispered again. He whimpered wildly, but he didn't argue or ask again, which somehow just turned me on even more.

"John... John..." Keith was whispering, panting, while his body arched and pulled mine closer. My name had never sounded so good.

He was gasping and twitching more frequently. His hands were gripping my back again, digging in hard, pulling me closer. He was hissing his breath through his teeth.

"You love this, don't you?" I whispered. Keith arched his head back, gave a breathless half laugh.

"John... please..." he finally gasped, breaking off into a soft whimper.

"Cum for me, beautiful," I finally whispered, reaching between us and sliding my hand around his cock.

His sharp cries turned into a long wail and he thrashed beneath me as he came into my hand almost instantly. He was still crying out even after he finished cumming. He groaned and tilted his head back again as I came hard inside him, clutched me tight and squeezed me until I was coming back down to earth.

I kissed his shoulder and neck, made my way towards his mouth. He demanded deep kisses from me, his hands sliding into my hair.

Finally he sighed and I rested my head on his shoulder.

It was so warm and comfortable here. I didn't plan on moving in a very long time. Except then I noticed that Keith was trembling underneath me. I kissed his neck and his shoulder again, then propped myself up on my elbows.

"Keith," I murmured. "You alright?"

He opened one eye and shut it again. "Awesome." He sighed, and then gave the most satisfied sounding moan I'd ever heard.

Which just made me laugh.

"Was that a good birthday, babe?" I asked, glancing at the clock. It was just about midnight.

He met my gaze with beautiful solemn eyes.

Then he cracked a grin. "The best in I can't even think how long." He told me, pulling me to kiss him again. "God. I'm exhausted." He sighed softly, flopping back onto the bed. "I don't want to move.. ever..."

"Here," I said. "I'll go get a cloth." I disentangled myself from him and made my way to the bathroom, cleaned up and took a damp face washer back into the bedroom and gently cleaned Keith up too.

He lay with his hands under his head, watching me with the most satisfied, sleepy smile ever.

I wondered if he suspected what I already knew- that I really loved doing this. That I was beginning to forget how things had been before him.

That I couldn't imagine an after.

That I wanted this forever. And it terrified me.

"So," I said, swallowing hard so I could speak. I was not going to think about that. Not now. Not tonight. Not around Keith. He intoxicated me, made me want more and forever and all these things I'd never wanted, never planned on having. If I needed to think, I'd have to do it away from him. I couldn't think straight around him. "Breakfast in the morning?"

Keith laughed weakly. "John, after that I don't think I'm going to want to leave this bed for lunch, let alone breakfast..."

I grinned and slid my fingers up the inside of his thigh. Keith shivered.

"Especially if I can promise a repeat performance?" I asked, giving him an attempted lewd look.

He looked at me as if he might hit me with a pillow, then cracked up laughing.

"Breakfast in bed it is," I said, kissing him softly.

When he looked up at me his face was glowing.

I couldn't imagine how someone like me could make someone like him so happy, but I was loving every minute of it.

And yet, I wasn't sure how much longer this could last.

_______________

Keith:

It was a beautiful day. The under twelves had won their first match,

ever

, and upon our return what felt like the whole town had turned out to celebrate. Really, it was just the families and some close friends down at the oval. Spring had began in spectacular fashion and there was actually some sun, so we were spilling out from the pavilion and right onto the grass. There were piles of boxes of pizza and packs of soft drinks cans. Beer for the adults. John and I had grabbed a couple and had been kicking a ball around with some of the younger kids who were still too young to be on the team for a while- until they took over the ball entirely.

We were just chatting idly and keeping half an eye on the kids when we noticed a dark car pull into the lot. There were lots of cars coming and going, but it was the people in the car that really stood out. The man and the woman were in suits. And it was Saturday. And no one wore suits like that around here anyway.

They moved into the crowd and spoke to a couple of people. I assumed that they were relatives of someone, from the city, and wondered why they'd bother coming for the celebration if they hadn't been here for the match.

I was thinking about asking John out to dinner. We normally stayed at my house, since he wasn't ready to tell anyone yet. I was impatient, but I didn't want to ruin a good thing, and I knew how hard it could be, so I said nothing. All the same, I really wanted him to tell people. I'd fallen for him, and I didn't want to tell him until he told people about us. If he told them, then he was demonstrating that he was at least attempting to be in this for the long haul. If he even wanted to talk about telling people, then I'd tell him. I was in love with him. Just the thought of telling him and I glowed all over, a special private warmth. It didn't matter that he wasn't out, it didn't matter that he'd only stayed the whole night once, last week for my birthday. I mean, I cared about that and I wanted to change it, but it didn't make a difference to how I felt. I loved him anyway. I loved him despite everything.

The suited couple stopped in front of us. John and I glanced at each other.

"Keith Draper?" The man asked.

"Yeah." I said, my mouth suddenly dry. My glow was gone.

"I'm Detective Sergeant Morgan, this is Detective Senior Constable Kay." There was an awkward pause, then I cleared my throat.

"This is John Matthews. The head of the local station." They both looked at him. I felt like I should have introduced him with his rank like they had, but the problem was I couldn't remember. I didn't know what the difference was between a Constable and a Sergeant and a Detective Senior Sergeant... although on reflection that might have been it.

"We spoke with your deputy at the station. He said you'd be celebrating."

"We are." John said with a slow quirk of his lips and raised his beer.

I was feeling sicker by the minute.

"Is- is everything ok?" I asked. The Detective fixed me with a level gaze.

"Mr. Draper. Do you know a woman by the name of Evelyn Walker?"

"Evelyn Walker?" I repeated. "No." My palms were sweaty, but the name was so foreign to me that I felt sick with relief.

"You sure?" the woman cop took a photo out of her folder and handed it to me. It showed a pretty blonde woman who absolutely glowed with good health. I'd have remembered her, I was sure.

"No." I said again. "I don't recognise her."

"Recognise her now?" the man asked, and the woman handed over another photo. I couldn't believe it was the same woman. She was pale, laying on white sheets, bruising up the side of her face. Her eyes were closed and for a brief, horrifying moment I thought she was dead. A large patch of her hair had been shaved and I could see stitches running across the exposed skin of her scalp though, so I knew she must be alive. Surely...

"No." I answered again. "Why? What happened to her? Is she ok?"

"She was assaulted. Your ex-boyfriend, Mr. Graeme Shields, mentioned your name."

"Ex-partner." I corrected coldly. Boyfriend sounded too temporary, too transient.

Then

it hit me. "So she's-" I looked back at the photo. "She's his wife." I said. She was the one he left me for.

The policeman nodded. "You can understand why we're here."

They thought I'd attacked her.

"No." I said, shaking my head and pushing the photos back at the female cop. "I didn't assault her! I've never met her, I've never even seen her before! Graeme told you he thought

I

-?"

"We understand you didn't part on good terms."

We didn't part on good terms?

Wasn't that just about the biggest understatement of the century? Not on good terms? I never wanted to see the fuck again!

"He cheated on me with her after we'd been together for six years and then left me to marry her after three months and

I

thought we were life partners." I said loudly and clearly. I could clearly hear the loathing in my own voice. "So, no. No, we did not

part on good terms

."

"So you don't deny smashing his windscreen and windows with a golf club?" I swallowed hard.

"No. His lawyers said he wouldn't press charges."

"And will you deny clashing with a local father here?" Ah shit. Joel's dad.

"No. But that's got nothing to do with anything- he accused me of-" I bit off the end of my sentence before I could continue. I'd suddenly realised I didn't want to repeat what he'd said to the police either. Luckily, the policeman went on before the silence became too obvious.

"We don't believe the incidents are related, Mr. Draper. We're just trying to build up a profile here." Bright heat burned in my cheeks. I felt like a small sun. I said nothing. "Where were you on the night of September tenth, Mr. Draper, between the hours of 9 pm and 2 am?"

I felt the blood leave my cheeks. September tenth was my birthday. I'd been home. With John. I'd made dinner. I'd brought out champagne. We'd made out in the lounge room, then made love upstairs in the bedroom. It was the first and only time he'd stayed the whole night. The first and only time I'd woken up his arms and we'd made love again in the early morning light before he'd brought me breakfast in bed.