Page 57 of That One Moment

“Will you be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be here,” he replies, with absolutely no hesitation.

Doctor Bowen, the private psychologist I was lucky to find at short notice, is in her late fifties and exudes kindness and care. My skin buzzes and my legs move restlessly as she jots down notes from the first part of our session. After a few questions about my general health and how I’m feeling today, she asked where I wanted to start. Surprising myself, I started with my mother. From the time she left us, right up until the last time I saw her. We haven’t touched on Cooper yet - other than that he was my twin and he died - and I’m not sure when I’ll be ready for that. At some point, I’ll have to tell her how I’ve been punishing myself for his death as some twisted way to even the scales, but not now.

“Last thing for today, Caiden. You don’t need to tell me but please know that anything you say will remain confidential unless I feel you are a danger to yourself or others.”

I nod in understanding.

“Are you still self-harming?” She’d already asked me if I’m still having suicidal thoughts, which I told her I’m not. I explained to her it was just that one time, explained - without mentioning Cooper - that I don’t want to die. I just want to stop hurting.

Nodding again, I look down at my hands aimlessly rubbing up and down my jean clad thighs. It's been only once since thehospital, the night Jamie left after we'd fucked in the kitchen. I don't tell her about him, mostly because I don't know what I'd say but also because I want to keep everything about him to myself, while I can.

She writes something in her notes but smiles at me tenderly. “Okay. Thank you for being honest with me. Moving forward, we’re going to try a therapy called Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. We’ll work together over the next ten to twelve weeks to identify what makes you self-harm and look at ways to reduce these urges. This isn’t about anyone trying to fix you, Caiden. It’s about giving you the tools to help yourself and manage your thoughts and behaviours. We’ll take it at your pace, and every week, I’ll give you a few things to do at home. How does that sound?”

I don’t speak for a pause, letting her words settle in my mind. She’s offering a way to help me but also a way to empower me to help myself. The fear I experienced earlier has mostly subsided, but still, there’s something I need to ask.

“It sounds good in theory. But what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m too damaged and fucked up to help?”

“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll look at alternatives. There’s no one size fits all answer here. But there are options, and I’ll work with you as long as it takes to find something that does work. If you’re willing to work with me too?”

Letting out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, I say, “Okay, I want to do that. Yes.”

The doctor and I talk for a little longer before my time is up. I set up a recurring appointment with her for every Monday morning and then walk the short distance back to the train station. Emotionally drained from the events of the last few days, along with a lack of restful sleep, I trudge into my apartment with the aim of going straight to bed.

Jamie isn’t in the lounge or the kitchen when I walk in, and he’s not in my room, either. His voice carries down the hall and I follow it to the partly open door of my bathroom. He’s singing a song I recognise - and love - about being made to love someone. It's beautiful, sorrowful and deep, with lyrics that resonate deep into my soul.

Telling myself I can have this one last selfish act, I take off my shirt, push the door open further and walk into the bathroom. It’s a small room with only a toilet, basin and moderately sized shower. Steam billows around me as I take off my socks and hesitate with my hand over my jeans. I’ve had these ‘rules’ about what parts of me I’ll let guys see, and my upper legs and thighs are not one of them. I know Jamie is different and he knows things about me that others don’t. Yet, I can’t help but worry he’ll be disgusted with me so, I leave them on and climb into the shower behind him, the water quickly soaking into my black jeans.

His singing stops and his breath hitches when I wrap my arms around his stomach and press my lips to this shoulder, licking at the drops of water that run from his hair. My hands roam the planes of his taut stomach, up and over his defined pecs.

“Is this okay?” I whisper. My finger finds his nipple and circles the bud and his body shivers under my touch.

“Yes,” he says, turning his head and finding my lips with his. Jamie groans when I squeeze his nipple again and my dick thickens behind my too-tight jeans as his tongue slides along the seam of my lips before pushing inside. It’s not the most comfortable angle and when I wrap a hand around his hard cock, he releases my mouth with a gasp, his head falling backwards onto my shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, as I stroke him firmly with one hand while the other slides down his ass. He widens his legs, and I trail two fingers between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. Hiships move, chasing both the hand working his cock and the one tapping at his entrance.

“Can I?” I ask, my finger dancing around his hole. He grunts a yes and I slip the tip in. Jamie shudders, arches his back and exposes the long line of his neck to me. I lick the droplets of water from his skin then sink my teeth into the spot just below his jaw at the same time I push the digit deeper. Sucking harder, I know I’m leaving a mark and the animal part of me preens before I finally let up.

“So fucking tight. More?” I ask, pressing my finger to the bundle of nerves inside of him. He moans, loud and deep and presses back onto my hand, chasing the feeling.

“Yes, more, give me more, more,” he chants, his voice gravelly. When I remove both my hands from his body, he glares at me over his shoulder, the green of his eyes swallowed up by his blown pupils. Water droplets hang from his eyelashes and his lower lip is red from where he’s been biting it.

With one hand, I undo my jeans, and with the other, I press on his back. “Put your hands on the wall.” He obeys, bending his head beneath the spray of the shower while he holds himself up against the tiles. His ass is round and firm and I knead the globes, pressing my thumbs into the dimples on his lower back before bending down to kiss them. He moans as I bite, suck, and kiss my way over his ass cheeks and down the back of his thighs until I'm on my haunches, his sexy ass right in my face.

Pulling his cheeks apart, I swipe my tongue over his hole, lapping at the water that’s running from the shower and down his body.

“Holy shit, fuck, yes, like that,” he pants. My tongue runs over his rim again before curling and dipping inside, past the tight ring of muscle. He tastes like soap and musk - the taste so intoxicating, I can barely contain my need to come.

Letting go of one cheek, I pull my cock out of my soaked underwear and stroke myself while nibbling and licking around his hole, feeling it flutter beneath my tongue. My cock twitches, pleasure radiating from my toes, and up my spine, so I stop, not wanting to come on the shower floor when there’s far better places for it.

“You’re so perfect. Perfect mouth…your tongue…fuck…More, please more,” Jamie babbles on and on, the muscles in his arm bunching as he jerks himself in long, hard strokes. Standing, I slide my cock between his thighs and he instinctively squeezes them together, creating a tight vice around me.

The water turns cold so Jamie shuts it off, and the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breathing echoes through my tiny bathroom. He continues to work his cock as I fuck his thighs and nibble on the side of his neck, leaving a mismatched pattern of bites and bruises along his skin. My movements pick up, my thrusts matching the erratic beating of my heart.

“Would you let me fuck you?” I ask, kissing a purple spot blooming on his neck.

Jamie groans and curses, his body trembling as he comes. His one hand rests over mine on his hip and he drops his head against the tiles, chuckling a ‘bloody hell’ as he does.

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