Embracing The Tension Ch 08

Hi guys!

A lovely weekend ends a little tense, but important words are said, plus some more sextytimes.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you love/hate/want to see more of!!

Yours,

Hudson

Copyright © 2018 by Hudson Bartholomew. All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Embracing the Tension - Chapter 8

Erik woke up to the feeling of fingertips trailing lightly across his skin. His face was pressed into the nook between Ryan's neck and shoulder, and every breath he took smelled of sandalwood and man. If he never moved from the spot, he'd be happy.

It took him a moment, but he eventually realized that Ryan was tracing his tattoo—up over his shoulder then back down his arm, the same swirly path over and over until the skin burned lightly at the touch. Erik kissed the soft skin under his lips and let his tongue sneak out for a taste, too.

"Morning." Ryan rubbed his cheek against Erik's forehead, the beard sending tingles across Erik's skin.

He loved the groggy, half-awake sound of Ryan first thing in the morning.

"Good morning," Erik replied and snuggled himself closer to Ryan.

It was usual to find Ryan awake before he was, but this cuddling was nice. Maybe he should linger in bed more often in the future so they could enjoy more lazy mornings. Erik smiled until his brain rudely reminded him that he lived in New York and Ryan lived in Toronto, so any mornings together—be they lazy or not—were to be few and far between.

"Are you overthinking again?" Ryan asked.

Erik leaned back so he could get a good look at Ryan. "How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Know what I'm thinking all the time."

Ryan smiled and shrugged the one shoulder that wasn't pinned under Erik.

"You stiffen up and your eyes lose focus like you're trying to see something that's not there."

"Huh." Did he do that? Certainly, not consciously.

"See? There it is again." Ryan pulled him down for a quick kiss on the lips. "Mm, morning breath. I suppose we should get cleaned up?"

After they adventures with the fruit fondue the previous evening, they had just wiped themselves down with a damp cloth and borrowed under a pile of blanket. Erik wouldn't be surprised if there was still traces of chocolate and semen stuck on him somewhere.

With great reluctance, they got out of bed and Ryan re-stoked the fire that had run cold during the night. Erik nearly got frostbite on his dick when he tried to use the outhouse, but when he ran back inside the warm cottage and slammed the door shut behind him, he found Ryan had a French press of fragrant coffee steeping and a big pot of water warming on the wood-burning stove. They ended taking a sponge bath in the tiny little shower stall, huddled together as they dragged wet washcloths over each other's bodies, and hopping from foot to foot on the cold, tiled floor.

After a hot cup of coffee and some muffins for breakfast, Ryan suggested they take a hike in the woods. No amount of glaring got Erik exempted from the outdoor excursion. Despite all the practice from the day before, Erik felt even more awkward during his second attempt at snowshoeing. He blamed the uneven ground they trekked over, as they picked out their own trail through the barren trees surrounding the cottage.

"How the hell do you know where we're going?" Erik asked, breathless as he tried to keep up.

Ryan stopped a few paces ahead and looked back. "We're just following the lake's shore." He pointed to their right and the open expanse a few yards away. If he hadn't pointed it out, Erik's eyes never would have noticed it.

He took a minute to look back in the direction they'd come. Their tracks meandered in between the stark, black trees, but other than the white of the sky and the white of the snow, there was nothing else in sight.

"It feels like we're in the middle of nowhere." Erik dropped his voice in reverence to the stark landscape around them.

"Our cottage is just around the bend back there, and we should be able to see the neighbor's if we keep going that way. Not quite in the middle of nowhere."

Erik threw a glare at Ryan, who grinned back at him with a twinkle in his eye.

"Come here." Erik shuffled the few feet between them and tried to insert his snowshoes in between Ryan's. There wasn't enough room, and Erik didn't really know what he was doing, so the aluminum frames caught somehow, and Erik reached for Ryan just as Ryan reached for him, and they both ended up landing in a pile in a snow bank.

"Ow." Ryan frowned, though his grin still graced his lips. "What was the tackle for?"

"Nothing. Shut up." It seemed Erik could move more fluidly while horizontal than while vertical when he had snowshoes on. He rolled them over until Ryan was on his back and Erik's weight pressed them into the snow. Then he proceeded to wipe the grin off of Ryan's face with a kiss, lips cold at first but warming quickly as they brushed and brushed again.

Ryan's arms tightened around his back, bringing him as close as their parkas and the contraptions on their feet would allow. A moan escaped, though Erik wasn't sure who it came from. Their breaths were clouds of steam floating all around them, and when Erik pulled back far enough to gaze down at Ryan, it felt like he was watching a scene through a camera lens zooming out to find the perfect frame: Ryan with his lazy grin, eyes smoldering through a hazy mist.

Erik wished he actually had a camera so he could capture the image forever. Not just the image, but the moment. The two of them in the snow, away from work and family and the things the world demanded of them; just the two of them and the love that bubbled up in Erik's chest, so potent that it hurt.

"Hey," Ryan whispered.

"Hey," Erik whispered back.

"It's getting cold."

Erik nodded but didn't move. He didn't want this moment to end. It was too perfect to end.

"Hey." Ryan pulled him down for a kiss that was more a lip snuggle than kiss. No movement, no tongue, just a press of lips and foreheads. But it was more than that even; it was an exchange of unspoken words, an acknowledgement that whatever was going on inside Erik's heart was mirrored in Ryan's. Emotions too strong to be contained threatened to spill out, and a strangled sound escaped Erik's throat. He pulled himself away before he turned into a blubbering mess in the middle of a snow-covered wood.

Rolling onto his back, he blinked up at the backlit sky and breathed in the cold air, letting the winter bring his body back into some semblance of normal. By the time he pulled himself together, Ryan was already upright and holding out a hand.

"How'd you stand up so fast?" He asked as he grasped Ryan's hand.

Ryan smirked at him and pulled him up to stand. He planted a quick kiss on Erik's lips before turning to continue their hike. "Family secret!"

"Jerk."

They continued in silence, accompanied by the howling wind and the crunch of snow under their snowshoes. Every few steps, there would be a crack of a branch caught under their weight. The pristine environment felt cleansing, as if the purity of the snow and forcefulness of the wind could wash away all the worries that came with real life.

They walked until they arrived at a neighboring cottage, closed up for the winter. Ryan led them down toward the lake and found some sort of snow-covered ledge large enough for both of them to sit.

"I should have brought some hot chocolate or whiskey or something. Sorry." Ryan apologized as they sat and gazed out on the frozen lake.

"I don't think I can talk about chocolate ever again without getting hard." Images of the previous night flashed through Erik's mind.

Ryan leered at him and pulled him closer so Erik's head was on Ryan's shoulder. He snuggled into the half embrace.

"Thanks for bringing me up here."

"You're welcome."

"It's not really what I expected. Although, I don't know what I was expecting."

Ryan made a sound of acknowledgement and pressed a kiss into the top of Erik's beanie-covered head.

"Do you think we can stay up here forever?"

A low chuckle emanated from Ryan's chest, vibrating against Erik's cheek. "We'd run out of supplies."

"We can do supply runs."

"Really? You'd be okay with using an outhouse and taking sponge baths all winter?"

Erik grunted. "I'd forgotten about that part."

"We can come up again if you'd like."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Okay."

There were a couple of evergreen trees in the middle of the lake, standing strong and proud against the wind. "Why are there trees in the middle of the lake?"

"There's a little rock island there. We won't go out that far. There are some weak spots in the ice. Oh, shit, I told Chloe we'd take a selfie for her." Ryan pulled off his gloves and dug into his pocket for his phone. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'd take a million selfies for Chloe." Erik smiled at the thought of Chloe pestering her Uncle Ry for a picture.

"Yeah, she can be a demanding little brat." The insult didn't sting when Ryan said it with a smile and a wisp of fondness in his voice. "Uh, how does this work?" He held out his arm and pointed the phone at them, but couldn't find an angle where some part of someone's face wasn't cut off.

"Here, let me." Erik pulled off a glove and took the phone from Ryan. He raised the phone high and off to the side, framed it up and took a couple of snaps. When he went back to review the pictures, his heart seized tight in his chest, and his lungs squeezed his breath out of him.

He had rested his head onto Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan had leaned in so that part of his face was obscured by Erik's beanie. That left Ryan gazing up at the camera through his thick, dark lashes, a lopsided grin just visible on his lips. The picture even captured Ryan's arm as it wrapped around Erik's back. And on Erik's face was the happiest, most relaxed and satisfied look he'd ever seen on himself. He wondered whether he had ever looked like that before, like all was right with the world and nothing could disturb it.

"Perfect," Ryan whispered. When Erik glanced over at him, Ryan wasn't looking at the phone, he was looking at him, and Erik forgot how to breathe. Ryan stole a quick kiss before grinning at him. "Come on, let's get back before we freeze to death."

Erik followed Ryan as they trekked along the snow-covered ice, following the invisible shoreline back to their cottage. It seemed faster than when they first headed out, but then maybe that was because Erik had gotten lost in stepping in Ryan's snowshoe prints. He felt like a little child dreaming of what the future might hold if he could walk the footsteps in the snow. What might life look like if he was able to follow Ryan wherever Ryan led? What if he could just stay here?

Erik let himself imagine what that life might look like before he dismissed it again. Toronto was a wonderful city, but he had the beginnings of a career waiting for him in New York. And as astonishingly perfect this weekend had been, there

was

still a real world waiting out there for them.

And yet, the idea wouldn't leave him as they shook off the snow that had gathered on their clothes, and huddled around the wood stove, covered in blankets and cradling glasses of whiskey in their hands. The idea lingered as Ryan finished up some work and Erik pretended to read, his eyes roaming over the same words again and again while his brain conjured up what life would look like in that third-floor apartment with Caesar curled up on the couch and Chloe's laughter echoing from downstairs. Even dinner was unusually silent with Erik was preoccupied with his fantasy.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked as he dipped some bread into the beef stew they had warmed on the stove.

A protest was on the tip of Erik's tongue, but he held it back. What was the point in lying when Ryan wouldn't buy it? "It's silly."

"And?"

Erik took a deep breath. "It's nothing, really. I'm just thinking."

"About?"

Erik shrugged. How could he tell Ryan that he'd been daydreaming about having a life together? They'd never even talked about whether they'd ever end up in the same city. Erik had assumed that was where they were headed, but now that he was honest with himself the idea of moving to Toronto was kind of farfetched. And convincing Ryan to move back to New York? He had no confidence that he could do that.

"Just work stuff that's waiting for me in New York."

"Mmhmm." Ryan narrowed his eyes in skepticism. "We're not supposed to be thinking about work, remember? We're here to have fun."

"Right." Erik chuckled, though the distinct lack of humor was audible. He reached out and grasped Ryan's hand, his heart skipping a beat when Ryan squeezed his fingers back. He did his best to push those thoughts away and focus again on the joy of simply being in the same space as Ryan.

After dinner, they crawled onto the futon and pulled the covers over them. They kissed and touched, holding each other close and soaking in each other's presence. They made love that night, slowly, gently, neither in a rush to climax, both simply content to be connected.

Ryan lay on his side, and Erik curled up behind him. When he pushed himself inside Ryan's body, it felt like he was being made whole again, like he found some part of himself that he had never realized was missing. And when Ryan turned his head back for a kiss, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Erik's heart surged with the love at the beauty of the sight.

He never loved the sound of his name so much as when Ryan cried it out again and again, breathless and desperate as he came all over Erik's hand. And when he reached his own orgasm, pushing himself as deep into Ryan's body as he could go, he felt his soul become inextricably woven together with Ryan's.

They fell asleep on their sides. This time with Erik as the little spoon, his back pressed against Ryan's chest and Ryan's arms holding him tight. It felt good and right and exactly how Erik wanted to fall asleep every night for the rest of his life.

###

It had been the perfect weekend. Literally, everything was perfect—exactly how Ryan had wanted it to unfold. Except when he'd woken up this morning, Erik was already dressed with coffee already brewed. Erik had given him a smile from where he sat at the dining table, just a small one, a little bit sad. Something was wrong, but for the life of him Ryan couldn't tease it out of Erik.

They'd packed up their things, and Ryan had gone through the cottage making sure everything was set to leave the place empty for another couple of months. All the while, something hung in the air between them: a tension that built with each passing moment it went unaddressed.

The trek across the lake back to the car was done in silence, but rather than the reverent stillness from their hike the day before, the cold, stark landscape felt bleak and severe. When they got to the other side, Erik had stood by the edge of the lake staring out onto the unending whiteness while Ryan loaded the car. Ryan didn't mind, Erik clearly had something on his mind. He finished stashing the snowshoes and the sled in the storage shed and came up behind Erik and pulled him into his arms.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

Erik didn't answer, just pressed his lips together and leaned back. Ryan welcomed his weight, the solid mass of it, stable and grounded, his anchor.

"Erik? Tell me what's wrong?" He tried again.

Erik took a shaky breath and then let it back out, just as shakily, his breath fogging up the air around them. He shook his head, and his lips tilted up in an unconvincing smile. "Nothing. I'm just sad to leave."

For someone who had once claimed to be an actor, Erik was a terrible liar. But Ryan didn't press him; he was sad to leave, too. He turned Erik around to face him, framed Erik's face with his hands and leaned up to press a kiss on Erik's lips. He tried to put everything he felt into that simple press of lips—all the jumble of emotions, dreams, desires in his head and in his heart.

The weekend had been perfect, and it had proven to him what he had suspected for a while. He loved Erik. So much. More than he thought he could love someone who wasn't related to him by blood. And they were good together. In all the ways that Erik was high, Ryan was low; Erik pushed forward, and Ryan pulled back. They balanced each other like opposite ends of the scale, and Ryan just knew that if he lost Erik now, his life would go careening off again.

"Come on," he said, his voice thick with emotions he hadn't expressed. "Let's go."

###

The closer they got to Toronto, the stronger the ache in the middle of Erik's chest grew. It grew and grew until he felt like he couldn't breathe anymore, and he cracked open his window to let in some cold winter air.

Ryan's eyes darted over to him every few seconds. Concern and worry were written all over Ryan's face—in the way he pressed his lips together, in the crease between his brows. And Erik wanted to say something to ease the worry, something to lighten the mood that weighed heavy in the car. But his mind wouldn't cooperate—too preoccupied with the knowledge that their weekend was coming to a close and that he was leaving the man he loved. He'd be back, he knew that. Or Ryan would visit New York. But it wasn't the same, and his heart had begun the grieving process before he'd even experienced the loss.

He didn't notice Ryan reach across the center console until his hand closed around Erik's. Ryan squeezed twice, and Erik squeezed back. No words were spoken, and yet that was the opening Erik had been waiting for.

"I don't want to go." God, he sounded like some petulant, whining child.

Ryan squeezed his hand again. "I know. I didn't want to leave, either. But we can come back again; just let me know what weekend you're free to come up."

"No, I don't just mean the cottage." Erik turned to take in Ryan's profile: the line of his jaw, the bump in his nose from a hockey scuffle, the way his bottom lip was caught in between his teeth, brows lowered over his eyes. "I don't want to go back to New York."

Ryan took a sharp breath in through his nose, his fingers tightening around Erik's own and not letting go.

"I don't want to go back to all these dead-end projects that no one's interested in. God, it's so fucking tiring, constantly knocking on doors and constantly getting rejected."

"But, isn't that part of the job?" Ryan's frown deepened as he changed lanes to move around a slow car in front of them.

It

was

part of the job, a job that he had wanted and signed up for. So, what the fuck was he complaining about? "Yeah, it's just..."

Ryan sneaked another glance over at him. "What?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm just not as motivated as I used to be. Maybe I'm just tired."

"I know how that feels." Ryan drew his hand back, and Erik immediately missed the contact. "Especially being tired in New York. It's like a whole other level of tired."

"Yeah, no shit."

"So why are you still there?"

"What?" Erik frowned.

"Why are you still in New York?" Ryan persisted.

Erik wouldn't have been annoyed if he hadn't been pondering the exact same question for the past twenty-four hours. But Ryan suggesting something that he'd been considering had his defenses going up in a way he hadn't felt the need for in a long time.

"Not this again." He heard the edge in his own voice. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.