Follow the River

Fuck buddies, I suppose. Sounds much better than sleeping with the enemy.

But even as I wait a moment, he refuses to meet my eyes, to fucking listen to me. Not that I’m at all surprised. Rain doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to and he kneels to just about no one.

“I said, look at me,” I demand sharply, not bothering to keep the bite from my tone. And it works, because he obliges, giving me his full attention. “I want you to fucking stop this pity party you’re having. Because that is what it is.”

The way his eyes widen, nostrils flaring, tell me he’s about to go off on me but that’s not going to happen.

“Shut up and let me talk,” I growl, rounding the counter to stand in front of him. “You’re sitting there stewing in your guilt and it’s doing nothing, fucking nothing, to heal the wounds we’ve caused each other. And we both know I can stand here and forgive you a million times and you will still feel guilty.” I quirk a brow, begging him to disagree, but the smart man he is, he keeps his trap shut.

“Do I wish things would have progressed between us differently? Absolutely. But Rain…that was some of the hottest sex of my life, even if it wasn’t exactly…” I trail off. How do I tell him I liked what he did to me? He might be a little fucked in the head for doing it, but I am the idiot sandwich who actually enjoyed it?

“Look, I’m not mad. I don’t hold it against you. I forgive you, absolve you of your sins. Whatever you fucking need to get past this.” My hands itch to reach out and touch him, but I keep my fist balled at my sides. “I wouldn’t have hopped into bed with you willingly if I thought for one second you’re a rapist. Which is exactly what you’re painting yourself as right now.”

“But—”

“No. No fucking but. Not unless it is one of ours getting fucked,” I bite, ticking my jaw. “Do we have an understanding? You are not a rapist. I am not a victim. We are two people who are making the best of a shitty ass situation by enjoying each other’s bodies. Consensually.”

I wait for a sign of his agreement. A nod, a word, something. And while it takes a minute, his sigh of concession is more than enough for me to soften again. And I’m glad.

Being harsh with him, having to put him in his place so to speak, I hate it. It makes me itch and feels so…uncomfortable. U

But with him, my preference is to submit.

Still, there are times like this where I just fucking know he needs someone to make him back down. Bend him enough to show his hand.

Force him to kneel, if only for his own good.

And honestly, isn’t that what I’ve been doing from the begi

Isn’t that what he needs?

An equal.

Licking my lips, I shake my head. Because even though I know I am, I’m not sure he will ever see me as that. “Christ, Rain. Can I touch you yet?”

He smirks and nods, giving me the go ahead. I slip between him and the counter, so I’m positioned directly in front of him before hopping up, his torso and shoulders between each of my dangling legs.

Rain wraps his arms around my waist and presses his forehead into my sternum and lets out a sigh. “How the hell can you go from sweet to dominant as fuck then back to sweet again within a minute?”

I shrug, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck, teasing the short hair I find there with my fingers. “God given talent? Human sour patch kid? Unclear.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Tastiest sour patch kid I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

My brows shoot up. “Oh, so you’re a jokester now?”

“No,” he shakes his heads with a wicked grin on his face. “Just making sure you remembered how well I milked every drop of cum from your cock earlier with my mouth.”

I grip the back of his neck, I bend down and bring his mouth to mine giving his lips a quick nip. “That will be fucking impossible to forget,” I say against him before kissing him. It’s meant to be a quick peck, but as always, our tongues end up in a tangled mess until we’re panting and breathless.

“As much as I fucking love your mouth on mine, I’m dying to know what is inside the envelope you brought in here.” I lick his lips with the tip of my tongue before pulling away, glancing to my side where it sits on the counter.

Picking it up, he hands it to me with an uneasy look back on his face. I pluck it from his grasp with a smile before giving him a soft kiss again. It’s heavier than I thought it would be, and thick like cardstock.

His forehead finds the space right below my pecs and his arms tighten around my waist. Snaking my arms around his neck, I slip my finger into the seal of the envelope and tear it open carefully and pull out…a piece of what looks like…painting paper.

But it’s blank.

I feel my brows crease as I flip it over and my heart...it stutters in my chest.

Rain must know, because he squeezes me for a brief second, burrowing his head against me like he’d like to get inside my ribcage to make sure my heart is still beating.

It’s a painting. A watercolor.

And it’s stu

It’s a place I recognize well having been there with Taylor, Drew, and Elliott plenty of times in our youth whenever we’d come up to the cabin during the summer months. Or even in the winter when it was snowboarding season down at the resort in Vail.

The jagged, snow covered peaks and lines and clusters of pine trees surrounding a vivid aqua lake. It’s absolutely perfect, captures the beauty of the place better than any photograph ever could.

“I was up there one day,” Rain mutters, his voice muffled slightly by my shirt, “and I was so fucking sick of fighting with you. But I was even more tired of hiding from you, so I slipped out and hiked up there to see what all the fuss was about.”

I remember the day he’s talking about. I heard him slipping out of the cabin, seemingly undetected, looking ready to set out on a winter hike. He was gone for a long time, almost to the point I started to worry when I saw him out the window going into the shed off to the side of the cabin.

It was the night I first kissed him.

“And when I got there, I figured it out, you know? I didn’t realize it immediately because I was busy painting, trying to lose myself in the task. But when I started on the lake, it hit me. How can you stare into something so blue and not just drown in its depth?” He pauses and slips away from me, my hands with the painting falling from around his neck and onto my lap. His gaze searches mine for a second before he continues in the softest whisper, searing my heart entirely. “The color…it reminded me of your eyes.”

He says it in a way like it's a simple fact and he didn’t just flatten my world like a pancake with less than ten words. Like the fact that this…is more special to me than any fucking apology he could ever give me.

My eyes drifting back down to my lap, I let my fingers trace the edges of the painting, the soft perfect lines and the mixture of colors, in awe of his talent.

He thought of me when he painted this?

Rain lets out a nervous cough, grabbing my attention in time to see he’s rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “It’s like even when I was trying to escape from you, it only made me think about you more. And I’m done letting my thoughts of you drive me mad. To send me to the brink of becoming the kind of person who…”