Ch 11 A Book With Two Names
West stays home all day, after I tell him I love him. He calls work to say he won't be in. He doesn't give them a reason. We go back to bed and we stay there for a very, very long time. When we are finally spent, when we just can't anymore, we lie together, a tangled mess of arms and legs.
"So," I say, when I finally remember how we got onto all of this, "A baby with Ash, huh?"
He sighs deeply, not moving his hand from my chest, or his eyes from mine. "Don't freak out, okay? We're just talking. Nothing's decided. I just want to talk to you about it."
"Okay, talk and I'll listen."
"I do want a baby. I want a family. I want to be there for someone in a way that no-one was there for me. I've always wanted it. I want it a lot."
I nod silently, a small knot forming in my throat.
"Andy," he says, reaching up and stroking my hair, "if we do this, Ash and I won't be together. We are done. We'd have a custody arrangement in place. More than that, I want you to understand that as much as I want a family, I want you more. I want you, most of all. I only want a baby, if I can raise it with you as my partner. I'm all in. I mean it, I am all in. I just want us to talk about our options, okay? I want to know what you think."
His words land and penetrate me slowly. Some of it worries me, but part of what he just said has made my heart feel as if it's going to explode.
"Is a family something you want?" He asks, "I mean, is it something you want with me?"
I nod quickly, still unsure whether I can muster the courage to say it out loud. For so many years, I've carried this small, crazy dream inside me. So ridiculous and so far-fetched, I've never even mentioned it to Sarah.
"I do want it." I say quietly, when I can.
"You do?" He exclaims, his voice rising and turning high pitched, the way it does when he's excited. "Really?"
I nod slightly and then whisper, "It's one of the greatest dreams of my life. To raise a baby with you. Your baby."
I think of what Sarah said. Even though I never thought I'd have it in me to say no to West, I know I have to. I know I have to tell him what I think, and I have to tell him how I feel. "The thing is, West," I say, "I don't want it to be with Ashleigh. I'm sorry, but I don't. I know she'll be a great mother, but I just don't want her to be in our lives like that, forever. I do want your baby, but I also want the baby to be related to me."
He looks at me a little confused, "What do you mean?"
"Years ago, when I came out, all hell broke loose at home. My dad took it badly. My mom tried to take it well, she really did, but she was sad that I wouldn't be in a relationship that could lead to grandkids. I kid you not, I was only eighteen and that was her major problem with me being gay. That was the thing that bothered her. It went on and on, she tried not to, but she kept mentioning it. It made me feel terrible. Terrible. Truthfully, it was a very shit time in my life. Even though I've never had any doubt in my mind about the fact I'm gay, I've always wanted kids. My mom's reaction really drove the point home, that it would be very hard for me to be gay and have what I want in life. My sister found me in my room one afternoon after a bad run in with my mom. She could see I'd been crying. She said, "Don't worry, Big Brother, those fuckers don't know anything. They know nothing at all. If you want a baby, you'll have one. You'll find the guy and I'll donate the egg. One way or another, you'll have your family. You'll see.""
I look over at West, I hesitate for a moment, "If it's something you want, West, we could use Joss's egg, your sperm and a surrogate. It will take time and it won't be easy, but we can do it."
He looks astounded. Thunderstruck. "D-do you think she meant it? I mean, do you think she'd really do it?" His voice is shaky and soft. I can hear the fear of hope in each quivering breath he takes.
"I know she did. Over the years, we've talked about it. She doesn't want to have kids of her own, but she would like to be an aunt. She's serious, West. She reminded me of her offer last month, when I told her you and I were together. She said you were husband material and a plethora of terrible dad jokes, just waiting to happen."
"Are you serious right now?" He all but squeals. Over the years, I have seen West cry. He doesn't try to hide it. Those times, the times I've seen him cry before, they were nothing like this. Those times, there were a few tears tracking down his face. Tears from a sad movie, or angry-sad tears over a break-up. Tears he wiped away and then quickly recovered from. This time it's different. This time, tears are pouring down his face. This time, he's sobbing. He's struggling to breathe and he's not even trying to stop it.
"That's what I want." He says over and over, "That's what I want. I want a baby that's part of both of us."
I nod again and ask, "What do you think Ashleigh will think?"
"Andy, Ash wants a baby. That's her priority. That's what she wants more than anything. She will be disappointed when I tell her she can't use our embryos. She'll probably be angry, and she'll probably feel majorly inconvenienced. At the same time, she'll probably get straight onto a sperm bank and start going it alone. In the long run, it will probably be much, much easier for her to do this without us being involved. The truth is, I irritate the hell out of her. We really just don't get along very well. We're divorced. It's over between us. I don't owe her anything."
"So," I say, when he's recovered a little, "what's our plan then?"
"Well, I think we should tell Joss we love her, and we definitely, definitely want to take her up on her offer. At the same time, I think we should wait for a while. We don't have to rush. Joss is what, twenty-six or twenty-seven?"
"She's turning twenty-seven in September."
"Okay, so, we have time. We have lots of time. Right now, I can't think or see straight. I'm head-over-heels, seriously. I'm really struggling to function if you aren't in the room with me. We both waited so long for this. I want to experience it. I want to enjoy it. I want to spend every second I can with you and for now, I want to be selfish, I you all to myself."


And, I guess you could say we are selfish. We try not to be. We drag ourselves out to see our families. We see West's friends and we spend time with Sarah, Tyler and Guy, too. They've been there for me through so much, I don't want them to feel like I've deserted them.
Sarah's practise is going well, though she recently decided to change focus from counselling to coaching. She says she's tired of listening to people all day without being able to take an active role in straightening them out. Tyler is convinced that his antics have finally cracked her...I haven't corrected him.
Guy called me last week and asked for my help. He's planning an elaborate proposal. It's going to be amazing. There's going to be glitter and there's going to be dancing. Believe me, it will be the gayest thing you've ever seen. Tyler is going to be beside himself. He's going to love it.
Still, some days, West and I find it hard to leave the loft. In truth, some days we find it very, very hard to leave the bedroom. The way things are between us now, is hard to describe. "An enduring state of bliss," isn't very far off. The fear and anxiety have left me now. I spend most of my time feeling euphoric. I still watch West with same intensity I always have, and what I see delights and surprises me. I see the way his face changes when he says my name. The way it changes when he's on the phone to his mom, when he says, "Andy said this..." or, "Andy did that..." I see it, when he looks at me, too. His face creases and his eyes go vague and a little glazed over. Olive green turns mushy and soft. He looks like a fool. A beautiful fool.
My beautiful fool.
I don't censor myself around him anymore. I say what I'm feeling. Mostly, what I'm feeling is crazy in love, so I tell him. I tell him every time I feel it, and he seems to love it.
"Say it again." He says, almost every time. And so, I do.
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
He smiles and arches his neck, like a cat having its ears scratched.
"I want you." I say, "I want you. I want you."
When I say that, something changes in his eyes. Maybe, it changed in my eyes first, and he saw it, but something is different now.
"What do you want, Andy?"
"Same thing I've always wanted." I say, "You." I hear my voice change when I say it. It goes deeper and softer. It comes from lower down in my throat.
He hears it, too. His eyes widen slightly, and I see his breathing quicken.
"West," I say, steeling myself. I know what I'm going to say needs to be said. I've been trying not to say it, not to put pressure on him, but I'm tired. I'm tired and I'm horny. I'm so tired of not telling him how I feel. Now that I've started telling him the truth, I can't seem to stop it.
"I want you to know, I'm happy with what we have. I love it. Truthfully, I love you so much, I'd be happy if all you ever want to do with me, is sit on the couch watching TV and holding my hand. I mean that." He eyes me a little suspiciously, "Truly, if you don't want more, I accept that one hundred percent. I love what have with each other."
He nods quickly, but I see him swallowing a little. It looks like one of those swallows, that doesn't go down very easily.
"But...?" He says, nervously.
"But," I say with a smile, "I want more. I want you. I want you, in every way."
He stands there before me. He's still nervous, but he's smiling. He's smiling as if, he's been waiting for me to say this. As if, he's been waiting for a very long time. He doesn't move. He just keeps waiting.
"I want you." I say again. This time, it's different. I'm not hesitant. I'm certain. My voice is no longer my voice. Now, it's a growl. "I want your body. I want to make it mine. Mine. I want to fuck you. I want to fill you. I want to fill you completely. I want to fuck you until you can't remember a time before me. I want to fuck you and fuck you, until you can't remember your name."
His eyes are very wide now. His pupils dilated. His chest is moving up and down rapidly but he's not moving. He's still waiting. He's waiting for me. I reach for him, taking his throat in my hand, tilting his chin up so he's looking directly at me. I see nothing but lust in his eyes.
"Say yes." I say, "say yes, and I'll make you mine. Say yes, and I'll own you."
"Jesus," he twitters, nervously, "is this the Montgomery magic I've been waiting to see?"
"No," I chuckle, "not even close. Say yes and I'll show you." I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in, my lips on his skin, "say yes, and I'll change your life."
He takes a few ragged, jerky breaths before whispering, "Yes."
He looks at me, pressing his lips together a little, then scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. He looks uncertain. I can see in his eyes, he has something he needs to say.
"Andy," he starts, his voice wavering slightly, "before we do this, I need to you know something about me. Something you might not know."
I look at him intently. I'd love to say that after everything that's happened between us, I don't feel any fear, but that wouldn't be true. I have no idea what he's about to say, and that still sends a tremor of fear straight to my heart.
"I'm not cool." He says.
I look at him in amazement.
Has he taken leave of his senses? He's the single coolest person I've ever met.
My eyes must show how I feel, because he quickly explains, "I'm not all cool and easy-going, when it comes to you. I can't be. Okay? I know lots of people you hang out with, or have been with in the past are, but I'm not."
I'm finding it a little hard to catch up. "What do you mean."
"I mean, I-I can't share you. Okay? I know lots of people can, and that's great for them, but I can't. I can't do it. I'm not proud of it, but Ash was right. I was jealous of Paul. I was jealous of those assholes you used to hang out with before Paul and even before that, I was jealous of every guy who got to be with you. I don't hold it against you, that you had a life before me. I'm not an asshole like that. I just, I just...can't share you, that's all."
He must have taken leave of his senses. "West, are you saying you want to be exclusive?"
I really, really thought that went without saying. Then again, all the problems we've ever had, have stemmed from us thinking things went without saying. Maybe for now, in fact, maybe for a very long time from now, maybe forever, both of us should make sure we say exactly how we feel.
"Yes." He says, very quickly.
"You must be mad." I say, "You must be completely mad, if you think I'd ever want anyone else. West, for me, there's never been anyone else. Never. No-one. No-one has ever come close. No-one."
I pause for a second, trying to think of a way to explain it to him, "Think of it like this, imagine a huge, old book filled with the names of every single person I've ever met. Everyone. People I've met once. People I like. People I dislike. My friends and my family. People I love very much. Every single one of their names are written in this big, old book, okay?"
He nods to show that he's following.
"So, that's the Name Book, okay? That's everyone. Everyone. Then, there's another book. A completely different book. A book that lives on a whole separate shelf from the Name Book. It lives in a whole separate room. This book, has one name on the cover, and one name on every single one of its pages. Only one name. For me, that name is West. It's always been West. It will only ever be West."
"Do you mean that?" He says, smiling so hard, his face is shining.
"I really do, Dumbass."
"Okay," he says, pulling me towards him, "let's write your name on every single one of those pages. Let's write your name, right next to mine. Let's write it in ink, so it can't be erased."
"Let's write it in semen." I say, watching his eyes light up, as he starts to cackle.


It's different this time. This time, it's not dark and candlelit. This time it's broad daylight. Light is streaming in through the windows, bouncing off the small specs of dust that float up all around us. There's nowhere to hide. This time, I'm not nervous and we're not in the shadows. He's a little nervous now, but this time, nothing is unspoken. For the first time in our lives, we both know exactly where we stand with each other.
I undress him slowly. I take my time. I claim every inch of skin I uncover. I claim it with my mouth. With my tongue and my teeth. Right from the start, he's very aroused. He's hard and tense. Not just his cock. His abs are tense, too. So is his back and his neck. I rub my hands over his skin, finding the places his muscles are rigid and I stroke him and knead him, until I feel him surrender. He's naked now. His head is arching back lazily every time I kiss a new spot. He watches as I take my clothes off. His gaze is intense. It's so intense, I feel it on my skin like a soft caress. He takes a careful breath, when I lift my t-shirt over my head. His mouth drops open slightly when I unbuckle my belt. He's not moving. Even his blinking has slowed. Slowed to a point, where he appears to be staring. I know the feeling. He doesn't want to miss anything. Neither do I.
When I reach for him now, it's skin against skin. Our bodies are warm. Scorching. I pull his hair back, making him look up at me. His lips part slightly. Ready. Waiting. I cover his lips with mine and my tongue takes his mouth. This isn't a soft kiss. It's not even a deep kiss. It's the type of kiss where both people know that one person is giving, and the other, receiving. I kiss him over and over. I kiss him until his arms hang limply at his sides and his head lolls back, if I loosen my grip on the back of his neck.
Once I have him like this. Once he's soft in my hands, I push him back. I push him hard. He doesn't resist. He doesn't have a gram of resistance in his whole body. His arms are wide open as he lets go. He falls back onto the bed with grace. Grace and total compliance. I follow him down, covering him with my body. Kissing his neck. Running my tongue down his chest, pausing at his nipples, flicking softly, until he sighs and starts squirming. His chest is rolling. Rising to meet me. It isn't long before his hips are rocking, too. I comb my hands through the hair on his chest. Raking and pulling. Following the dark, tangled path all the way down to his dick.
I make my way down his body with my mouth and my hands. I pause at his dick. I can't help it. It's so beautiful, I'll never be able to resist touching it. I won't. I know it. I don't pause there for long. As much as I love it. As much as I lust after it, today, what I want, lies lower down. What I want, lies in the shadow of his scrotum. It lies in the hidden valley of his ass cheeks. I push his knees back, giving myself the access, I need. The access I want. The access I've been obsessed with for years. I run my fingers down the seam that knits his ball sac together, stroking them gently, pushing them up, clearing a path for my tongue. I rim him lightly. Hardly touching. Teasing, until his body is thrashing. I use my fingers, too. Slowly. Carefully. Gently. Gentler, than I've ever been. Stretching him little by little. Opening him, until I know he's ready.
"Mmh." He moans, as his head rolls back, "Please. Please."
I move my body over his. Pressing him down with my hips. Spreading his legs, making space to take what I need. I look into his eyes. He's not looking away. He's watching, following, tracking me with his eyes. He tilts his hips and rocks his knees back, winding his legs around my body, crossing them at the ankles. Holding me in place.
"Oooh," he says, a little uncomfortably, "I feel like some weird kind of girl."
I can't help smiling a little. It's true, until now, he's never been taken like this. I can see why it feels strange to him. But that's not what he is. That's not what this is.
"You don't look like a girl," I say, "you look like a man. My man."
I crush my groin against his. Grinding. Grating. Two hard dicks crushing each other. "You feel like a man."
I kiss his neck over and over, until he arches slightly and a deep moan escapes, "You sound like a man."
I kiss his mouth. I kiss it deeply. I'm not just kissing. I'm trying to consume him. "You taste like a man."
He's groaning now. His body is moving of its own volition. My dick is between his legs, between his cheeks, nudging its target. I press myself up, giving myself a little space, so I can see his face. So, I don't miss a thing.
"Do you want to take it like a man?"
"Mmmh." He says, nodding at me with his mouth open. Slack. I have a feeling, that's the most sense I'm going to get out of him now. I move back onto my knees, coating myself with lube, stroking a little because I can't wait, but I know I have to go slow.
I rub my head against his tight ass. I'm breathing through my mouth now. Panting, though I haven't even started exerting myself yet. The sight of his pink, puckered, little hole makes me feel like someone else. Something else. Now, I am my arousal. I am my desire. Everything I am, is focussed entirely on one part of my body. The part, I'm about to drive into the man of my dreams. I guide myself in carefully. Pushing firmly, spreading him gently. I wait and wait and wait. I wait, for what feels like a decade. I wait until I feel him yield. I feel his tight, smooth muscle give way. I ease myself in. I wince when he winces. I love him so much, I feel his pain, as if it's my own.
I keep still and I wait until he opens his eyes. They look different now. The way he's looking at me is different now. I've never seen this look on him before. He looks naked. Bare. He's groaning. The sound comes from low in his body. It's hard to say exactly where it comes from. Definitely not from the part that has reason. Definitely not from the part that has words.r"
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Pub: 25 Mar 2021 07:56 UTC
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