“I love you, Carys,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I know I said this was just sex, but I fucking love you, and I need you to know it while I’m inside you. I love you so much. Don’t say it back. That’s not what this is about.”
As much as I’d tried to convince myself this was only sex, the second he said those words, my muscles pulsated even harder. The thought of fucking him had thrilled me, but the knowledge that he was making love to me put me over the edge. Because the truth was, I loved this man so much, and no amount of fear or mistrust could erase that. I would always love Deacon.
He snapped me out of my thoughts when he lifted my ass, sliding me toward him before throwing my legs over his shoulders.
He thrust into me hard for a few seconds from that position before his body shook and he groaned in pleasure. The feel of Deacon’s hot cum filling the condom prompted my own release. It was the most intense orgasm of my life.
As he came, he kept repeating, “I love you. I love you, Carys. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
With the wind knocked out of me, my body lay limp against Deacon’s floor as he hovered above, still inside me.
He lowered himself to kiss my neck. “Are you okay?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
He cupped my cheek before taking my mouth with his again.
Then he pulled out and stood up, showcasing his gloriously naked body, the full condom tip hanging from his cock.
He ventured to the bathroom to dispose of it, then returned to the rug. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling my body into his.
I turned to meet his face. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
He drew me in closer. “Of course not. But on one condition.”
“What?”
“You let me take you to our favorite diner for lunch.”
I beamed. “That sounds good.”
I sat up and was just about to head to the bathroom when he wrapped his arm around my waist. “Come here,” he said, pulling me back for another kiss.
After he finally let me go, I took a long shower, relishing the masculine smell of his body wash. My insides ached in the best possible way.
Once out, I took my clothes into his room to change, where I noticed an open book face down on his desk. Down Syndrome Parenting 101. Another book sat next to it. The Everything Sign Language Book.
While I’d been stuck in limbo over whether to trust Deacon again, he’d been moving forward—learning and preparing for a life with us, whenever I was ready.
* * *
A week later, Deacon and I hadn’t spent a night apart since that day at his apartment.
One afternoon he offered to go on a Target run for me since Sunny wasn’t feeling well. She almost never got sick, but today she had a small fever.
One of the things on my lengthy, handwritten list was children’s pain reliever, since I was running out.
Deacon sent a text from the store.
Deacon: Is the generic brand really as good as the name brand?
Carys: It’s supposed to be the same thing.
The dots moved around.
Deacon: Okay.
A few minutes later, he sent another message.
Deacon: Not gonna risk it. Getting the name brand.
I smiled. The sweet and caring side beneath that masculine exterior never ceased to amaze me.
Carys: Okay.
Several minutes went by before he reached out again.
Deacon: What’s organic penis?
Carys: Huh?
He sent a photo of my handwriting.
Carys: That says organic peaches. Sorry for my chicken scratch.
Deacon: I was gonna say… ;-) Mine is totally organic, by the way. But got it. Peaches. Organic.
He followed that with five peach emojis.
Deacon: Ironically, the peach emoji represents ass. So you can imagine where my mind is going right now.
Next, he texted an eggplant emoji and a peach.
Carys: That reminds me, get an eggplant, too. Gonna try to make eggplant lasagna tomorrow.
Deacon: Yes, ma’am.
The texts stopped for a while. Then I received a photo of a black, lace thong draped over his hand.
Deacon: After all that talk of eggplants and peaches, I walked by the ladies’ underwear section, saw this, and pictured you in it, bent over in front of me. Now I’m fucking hard in the middle of Target.
Deacon: I need to get in line, but it’s not safe to leave this aisle at the moment.
Deacon: Shit! An old lady is looking for granny panties across from me, and I’m hiding in place with a stiffy.
I doubled over in laughter.
Deacon: I shit you not, I think the old lady just farted.
Deacon: Fuck my life.
Deacon: That’s it. I’m moving out of here. I’ve got the cart in front of me to hide my junk. And thanks to her, I’m not that hard anymore anyway.
Carys: Will you just come home before you get into trouble? LOL
Deacon: Heading home. With the thong. You. Me. Tonight. It’s on.
I sighed. We’d had our ups and down, but I really did love this man.
Deacon: By the way, you’re a size small in shirts, right?
Carys: Yes. Why?
Deacon: I got you something.
Carys: Uh-oh. Let me guess. Low-cut neckline?
He sent a photo of a plain, white, fitted T-shirt with a simple message on the front: I Heart My Boyfriend.
My face hurt from smiling.
Carys: You know, before we got together, I used to refer to you as the “Anti-Boyfriend.”
Deacon: Oh really? Well, the “Anti-Boyfriend” found the one.
I sighed.
Carys: Hurry back.
One more text came in about five minutes later.
Deacon: Picked you up a coffee from the Starbucks in here.
He sent a photo of the cup, which had a message written in black marker. At first, I thought it said, Carys Like Paris. But then I looked closer and realized he was getting me back for the peaches mistake earlier.
Carys Likes Penis.
EPILOGUE
Deacon
Getting Carys to fully believe in me didn’t happen as quickly as I’d hoped. And there was no formal discussion or announcement when things had finally crossed the barrier of trust. Our being back together happened slowly and organically. I spent every day for months showing her I wasn’t going anywhere, and taking the time to learn how to be a good partner to her and a father to Sunny. Because I’d put in the work, I finally reaped the rewards.
In the five years since Carys entered my life, I’d learned many things, including the following, in no particular order.
One: You can’t prove yourself with words, only actions.