Page 65 of Only the Small Bones
The kiss lasted longer than any kiss I’d seen before, growing more fevered as the seconds ticked by. Ryan absorbed their palpable need like a star pupil.
The closing credits rolled on the episode after that, snapping Ryan out of his daze. He turned to me wearing an expression that made me adjust my shorts.
Reenacting the scene, he licked his lips and then swallowed before stalking over to me. He settled onto the cushion again, facing me, one arm spread across the back of the couch. If we were sticking to the script, that made me Gregory, the more emboldened one of the two characters.
I twisted in my seat and reached out for him, combing my fingers through his hair before pulling him into my lips—exactly how it went down in the episode. I kept the kiss gentle though, wanting to savor every moment of it.
Ryan’s lips were swollen and shiny when I backed away, his eyes glassy and cheeks red. He smoothed his finger over my wrinkled brow, my pained expression melting away under his touch. I felt ready to explode.
He picked up the remote, skipping the intro on episode four before pulling the throw off the back of the couch and wrapping himself up with it.
The couple made love for the first time at the top of episode five. The blanket fell from Ryan’s shoulders as he crept over to the screen this time.
The director had gone as far as he could without breaking any FCC censorship rules. Very little had been left to the imagination. The sounds alone coming from the men were carnal and explicit.
I couldn’t say which positions they’d done, or what surfaces they’d christened during their night of lovemaking. I only had eyes for Ryan.
His body vibrated, his fingers tracing the sweaty lines of their bodies. At one point his panting became louder than theirs. He seemed stunned and heartbroken, and when his back bowed from some invisible strike of pain, I had to sink my nails into the cushions to stop myself from charging over to him.
Whatever this was, he needed it. I could feel the truth of it in my soul. So I watched and waited while he grappled with himself.
Once Gregory and Steven were sated, Ryan turned to me with an ocean of hurt in his eyes. There were a few familiar emotions there. Hate. Betrayal. Anger. But most of all, an ancient sadness.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, then gaped at me with his hands at his throat. He couldn’t get the words out, and my anguish at seeing him struggle pulled me to my feet.
Ryan held a hand up, cautioning me to stay put. He looked at the TV screen then back to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted from me, but I went with my best guess.
“Yes, it can be that way. Loving and passionate and dramatic. It can be all things good.” I’d told him as much before, but now he’d seen it—even if what he’d witnessed was just a fictional performance of the real thing. The portrayal of love and yearning had been spot-on. I’d gathered that much from Ryan’s reaction to it.
“You’re going to be alright,” I vowed. He lowered his cautioning hand, allowing me to swoop in. He fisted the back of my shirt as I stroked his hair, whispering reassuring words until he was ready to finish the show.
Ryan slipped into a desolate silence afterward. Nothing I said helped.
I dropped him off at Safe Haven in time for his evening session with Katherine. I hoped today wasn’t a setback, but if it was, I had faith she could restore whatever progress had been lost.
I returned home and went through my nightly self-care routine before bed, letting the ritual of journaling stitch my frayed threads.
With the lights out and the covers pulled to my chest, I stared at my phone wondering if I should check on him. Maybe he needed space. The Ryan prior to Safe Haven would’ve needed time alone to process.
My phone pinged. Ryan’s name popped up on the screen, saving me from having to decide.
Ryan:I can’t stop thinking about Gregory and Steven.
Me:Me either.
It didn’t feel like enough, but it was all I had.
Ryan:I jerked off tonight.
I scrambled upright, the phone bouncing in my hand.
Ryan:I guess my touch goal for this week didn’t only include touching you.
Me:How did it make you feel?
The question felt insufficient, like maybe I should have said something else.Askedsomething else. Or maybe it was good enough. Maybe I didn’t need to say the perfect thing, or have all the answers. Maybe I just needed to be there for him.
Ryan:I’ve done it a few times since being here. Tonight was the first time I didn’t feel confused, or dirty afterward. It felt like I was the only one inside my own body for once. Does that make sense?
