Bound Together: Gay Romance Page 13

  As if those were the magic words, Brant stared up at me for a moment, watching me. Then he stood and grabbed my legs, pulling me down to the edge of the bed and lifting me up with those strong arms of his.

  Brant wrapped his hand around his manhood, his fingers moving up and down his shaft. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded. I did as I was told, spreading my legs wide and then pulling him in towards me as I captured him with them.

  I locked him into position, and then he placed himself against my entrance. He savored my heat, sliding his cock up and down my soaking wet cunt lips before entering me.

  Gripping the bed sheets, I moaned. My inner walls gripped his cock within me as he slowly plunged himself deeper and deeper within.

  He pushed himself in slowly, then pulled out again. Stroking his cock into me, he looked into my eyes with animal lust. I bit my lip under that gaze, my hands brushing against his face.

  He picked up speed, and I screamed as his cock hit me in just the right places. The pounding just kept coming, harder and harder until I lost all sense of anything other than pleasure. He placed his thumb against my clit, rubbing it with each thrust.

  With my legs wrapped around him, and his hands holding my hips, he pulled me onto his cock and fucked me hard. He twitched and grunted, and I knew he would cum soon.

  For a moment I regretted telling him to put on the condom. I wished I could feel him spilling inside of me again.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck! Don't stop!”

  Brant kept fucking me until he came inside the condom, his hot sperm unfortunately being caught in that latex condom. I held back a pout.

  He groaned and, once his balls were spent, he collapsed on top of me, his head resting on my chest. He laughed. “I thought for sure you were going to hate me forever.”

  “Brant, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I could never hate you.” He looked up at me, so I gave him a smile. “You scare me sometimes, and you definitely irritate me, but I love you too much to hate you.”

  He pulled his cock free from me and then climbed up higher onto the bed with me, kissing me hard. Brushing hair from my eyes, he looked into them deeply. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Of course I do,” I said. I meant it, no matter how terrifying it was. He was volatile and he needed help dealing with his anger, but I could be that help. I knew I could, and I knew I would be forced to help him if I was pregnant.

  He just needed to be willing to let me help him.

  –

  As I woke up, Vivian's warmth almost made me want to cry. I shuffled closer to her under the blankets, breathing in the scent of her hair. She slowly woke up in my arms, turning over to smile at me with those sleepy eyes.

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice quiet and feminine. The very sound of it helped to soothe the coming storm. I knew it was going to be a bad day for me, because I would have to figure out a way to keep myself occupied while I was disallowed from fighting.

  It just wasn't fair. I fought for a living, why shouldn't I be allowed to fight outside of the ring too? No publicity was bad publicity, so why did I have to get kicked out?

  Instead of dwelling on that, I kissed her nose and nestled into her body, laying my head on Vivian's bosom. “What's wrong?” She asked, her fingers running through my hair.

  “I just don't know what I'm going to do. Fighting was everything to me, and it's been taken away from me.”

  “Brant,” she said pityingly. “It's not all you have. If you look around, you'll find something else to do. Maybe you'll even find something you like better.”

  I sighed quietly. “Maybe you're right, but in a small town like Bell Bend? It's unlikely.”

  “Why don't you move? Come down to Ann Arbor.”

  It was a good question. I was willing to go, if it was with her… but at the same time, I was scared. I had never been more than 2 or 3 hours away from Bell Bend. I've always stayed close to home. The only way I thought I would ever leave was if I became a professional fighter.

  Thinking about just uprooting myself and going somewhere strange seemed harder than anything I had ever done before. “How did you do it?” I asked her. “How did you leave? Weren't you scared?”

  She considered my question for a long time. “I was scared. I was terrified of losing you, and then I was scared of making new friends. But I did, eventually. It's not hard to meet people, and even though it's hard to live somewhere completely different without any help, you eventually learn to enjoy it.”

  “It just seems almost impossible.”

  She took my head into her hands, tilting it up so that she could kiss me. “It does, but you're strong. If it came down to it, I know that you would succeed.”

  “Is there any chance of you staying in Bell Bend?” I didn't want her to go. It was selfish of me, I admit, but I would rather we both stayed here.

  “It's not likely, I'm afraid. There really isn't much here that I could do.”

  “You don't have to work,” I reminded her. “I could take care of you.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn't want to do that. Maybe if I was a mom...” She trailed off, wincing. “Well, never mind that. I'm going to head home to shower and clean up the house some more.”

  She pulled away from me and stepped off of the bed. “Do you have to go?” I asked. “We could have breakfast.” I grinned at her, a smile that she returned but with a shaking head.

  “No, I really should clean up. I want to call the realtor soon.” She covered her body with her clothes, slipping her bra on over her breasts and her panties over her ass. I marveled at her incredible body as she clothed herself, then watched as she threw her messy hair up into a ponytail.

  “I don't want you to leave me again,” I said before I could think better of it. It was a shitty thing to say, unfair to her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

  Looking back at me, she frowned. “I can't promise you the world, Brant, but I can promise you one thing. I'll work hard, and I'll fight for our relationship to work. I have to hope that will be enough.”

  “I'll work hard, too.”

  She smiled and came back over to me, kissing me hard before stepping back. “How about we have dinner later? I'll cook. Come over around 6, and then we can think up some things you can do to keep busy for the next 6 months.”

  I nodded, then watched as she waved and left me in my bed. She was an incredible woman, and she had her shit together. How could she stand to be with a mess like me?

  –

  A wave of nausea hit me as I stepped outside of Brant's apartment, but I held it back. My plans for the day included a long shower, a lot of cleaning, and taking one of those pregnancy tests.

  There was no point in waiting anymore. If I was showing signs and symptoms, it was unlikely that I would get a false negative.

  Everything I was experiencing could still be explained away by the flu or some other illness, but I think deep down I knew that I was pregnant. My mom always said she just knew, too, when she was pregnant with me.

  Maybe women just have that intuition. Still, I had to be sure.

  I did take that long shower, allowing the hot water to ease the nervousness from my muscles. What I would do if I was pregnant was still a mystery to me. There were a lot of factors I had to consider.

  How would Brant react? Would he expect me to stay in Bell Bend? I didn't want to leave Mom's house, but I didn't want to stay in this small town, either. There were so many conflicting wants and needs that cropped up, and adding a child's need for stability only made things more complicated.

  But we would figure it out. Together, we could work everything out.

  I tried to clean, too, but my mind kept getting distracted by everything baby related. What would I name a boy? There were a few good choices, I though. I could name him after Brant, but I had always liked Noah and Mason.

  Girl names were harder. I wouldn't want to name her after myself or anyone else in my family. Maybe Ariana or Bell
e? If I was pregnant, and if it was a girl, it would require some research to find the perfect name.

  What would the possible baby look like? Would it have Brant's eyes or mine? I hoped he or she had Brant's sharp nose instead of my bulbous Irish nose. And wouldn't it be lovely if he or she was as tall and athletic as Brant currently was?

  I wondered if the baby might be scrawny as a teenager and then suddenly develop muscles like his father? Would a baby girl be as timid as I had been as a teenager?

  Would I marry Brant? If he wanted me, I think I would. I could have a happy life with him, if I really tried to. As long as he found something gainful to do, and he allowed me to work, we could have a truly happy family.

  Family. Something I never really had. I only had my mother, and some visits from aunts now and then. Our family traditions involved Brant's family from the first year we started dating, Mom and I would go to his house after baking pies and making stuffing. We would share food and talk all night.

  Brant had been part of my family for years, and I took that for granted. I couldn't do that anymore. He deserved better than to be set aside until I needed him.

  Every thought I was having kept going back to the possibility of me having a baby, and every time I considered it I felt more and more ill. My anxiety was mixing with the nausea and if I didn't just take a damn test already I would throw up again.

  I went into my bathroom and took the box of tests out of the cupboard. I had hid them there, not wanting to be able to see them. If I saw them, I would have wanted to take a test too early. I would have obsessed over signs and symptoms more than I already did for 2 weeks.

  Removing a test from the box, I read the instructions. Pee in a cup, dip the stick in for 5 seconds, then let it sit for 2 minutes. Read before 5 minutes is up.

  I followed the directions and then immediately left the stick in the bathroom, going to grab my phone and set an alarm. Looking for a way to distract myself, I swept the hallway floor. I wiped down the staircase's banister. My alarm went off and my breath caught in my throat.

  That test was going to answer a lot of questions, but it could also be the harbinger of chaos. I didn't know what answer I preferred anymore.

  Chapter Eleven

  With flowers in my hand, I stepped up to Vivian's house and mentally prepared myself for what was to come. I had to be on my absolute best behavior, so that she could see how much she meant to me.

  I never got her flowers when we were in high school, so I didn't know which ones she might prefer. Would it be daffodils or roses? It was all a mystery to me. The flowers I chose were carnations in pink, because they reminded me the most of her. They were blushing and beautiful.

  I knocked on the wood of her front door and waited with jitters for her to answer. As Vivian opened the door, I thrust the flowers towards her with a huge grin on my face. “These are for you! I hope you like them.”

  She took them with a smile, but it was strained. Her eyes looked glassy, her face splotchy. I reached out for her hand. “Viv, what's wrong?”

  Opening her mouth, she only managed a croak and a wince. Then raised her hand. I opened mine to take whatever was in it.

  It was a long, plastic stick with a pink cap. It looked a bit like a thermometer, but there weren't numbers on the little window on it. Just a plus sign.

  “What's this?” I asked. “Are you sick?”

  “Something like that,” she said finally. “It's a pregnancy test, and that's a positive.”

  For a moment, the words made no sense to me. It was like she had just thrown some word salad at me, a bunch of random words that didn't go together at all. As my brain processed what she had just said, I laughed out loud.

  Dropping the stick, I snatched Vivian into my arms and spun her around. “You're pregnant?! Is it mine?” I asked, still laughing.

  She couldn't help but smile, although I could tell she was still hurting. Did she not want a baby? “Yes, it's yours.”

  “This is great! I've always wanted to be a dad.” For some reason, her mood didn't seem to be improving. “Do you think you'll keep it?” I asked, with an impending dread.

  She shot me a look. “Of course I'm going to keep it, idiot. I just don't know how to feel about all of this yet. It just kind of happened.”

  “So you weren't on birth control that first time?”

  “Nope,” she answered.

  I thought as I brushed hair from her face. “Well, I'm ecstatic, and I want to help you raise this child.”

  “I know, but I need to lay down some rules, Brant, and I don't think you're going to like them.” She pulled me into the living room and sat me down. The couch was covered by a blanket, and the room was a different color than when I was last there.

  “Alright,” I said. She looked so beautiful, even though she was clearly worried. “Tell me what the rules are.”

  “You have to stop fighting, and you have to get help for your anger.”

  My heart stopped. “If I stop fighting, I won't be able to bring in any money.” If I was going to be a father, I needed to be able to provide for my family. Not fighting was simply out of the question.

  “Yes, you will. Because we're going to find a job for you. I have a few ideas, but we can talk about that later. What's more important is that you'll promise to see a therapist for your anger issues.”

  It felt like she was attacking me, calling me a loser and a failure. I had a temper, but it wasn't that bad, was it? “Why should I have to see a shrink?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Because one of these days, that anger might be directed at me or your child. I can't risk that. You need to get help.”

  “I don't need this shit,” I said, standing. My blood was starting to boil. “If you can't accept who I am, Viv, then I don't think we'll work.”

  “Sit down, Brant,” she warned. The look on her face was serious. I did as I was told. “I absolutely love you for who you are. Your anger is not who you are, your anger is an illness. Finding ways to deal with your anger isn't going to make you a different person, it's just going to make you a safer person to be around.”

  “Bullshit. This is who I am.”

  “This is who you are? Someone who goes to jail and loses his job because he can't stop beating the shit out of other people? Really? You want to claim that's some intrinsic part of you?”

  I looked at her face. She wasn't saying any of that out of anger. It was exasperation, worry, stress, love. She loved me, and she wanted me to be better.

  I wanted to scream.

  She came to my side, resting her head on my lap and sighing. “Brant, I love you. I have always loved you, and no matter how much I fight it I always will. But we're going to have a child together. You need to take this seriously, because one day you will seriously hurt someone, and it could be me. Do you understand? I'm not exactly easy to get along with.”

  “Sure you are,” I protested.

  She chuckled, touching my face. “I'm pretty annoying sometimes, and you know it.”

  We both laughed, and then she pounced on me, hugging me close to her. She smelled like that old perfume, her favorite perfume that she wore in high school. It made me forget everything, and for just a second, we were teenagers again. Those four years never happened, and we were just happy to have each other.

  “Alright, I'll get help.”

  –

  The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, where I was bustling around and meeting with the realtor and Brant was taking up all of my down time. My nausea was just as bad as ever, but I tried to hide it as I met with old friends from high school.

  I'm not sure why I was hiding it. It wasn't really a scandal that I might be pregnant with Brant's baby. I just didn't want them to know.

  I also saw my old primary care doctor for confirmation of the pregnancy, and scheduled an appointment for an ultrasound. Brant was so cute when I told him about that, he was nearly bouncing up and down and wanted to come with me!

  Everyth
ing had changed when I told him about my pregnancy. He became a little bit gentler, and a lot happier. He even promised to give up drinking, and followed through on it for the most part. I don't think he was ever an alcoholic, or at least he's not addicted to alcohol.

  We were having dinner when he said the words that would make all of the pieces fall together.

  “I want to go to Ann Arbor.” He said it with conviction, looking at me straight on with his jaw set. He almost looked like he expected me to protest, though I had no idea why.

  I had made us steaks and mashed potatoes, broccoli, and lemonade. We were sitting at my old kitchen table. “Really?” I asked. Even though he told me he would follow me anywhere, I didn't really expect him to.

  “Yeah. I think I need to get away from this town for a while to figure out what I should be doing. Plus, I want to see what you love so much about Ann Arbor. It sounds like a pretty cool place.”

  I grinned as wide as I could. “That's great! When do you want to go?” I clapped my hands together.

  “I don't know. Tomorrow?” He smiled.

  Taking another bite of my steak, I considered that. “Well, we don't really have anything keeping us here, do we? Sure, let's go tomorrow. I'll book the hotel. How long should we stay?”

  “How about until the day before your ultrasound?”

  Placing a hand on my stomach, I nodded. “Good idea. That gives us about a week to explore. It's a pretty big city, but a week is more than enough time to check it out.”

  He nodded and we went back to eating. Things were comfortable with Brant. What was awkward at first had melted away and turned into a really happy relationship. No doubt there would be problems, there always is, but I knew that we could work through them easily.

  All that mattered was that I loved him, and he loved me, and we both loved the tiny human growing within me. It was still surreal, the idea that I was pregnant. It didn't feel real, aside from the nausea and swelling boobs.

  –