Page 30 of Narrow Margins
“Well, you’re the only one.” Corrie’s voice is barely audible.
“You’re kidding me? Jesus, Corrie. You’re perfect, your balance is incredible. Your core strength must be phenomenal. I have to work tirelessly at mine, just to be able to shift and right myself and the bike, so I know how hard it is.” I still rub the towel over Corrie’s body, but more to soothe and relax him now.
“Gymnastics,” Corrie says but I must have looked blank as he continues, “I was a gymnast in high school, I was pretty good, too. But the desire to escape my father was greater than the college scholarship, I even had one school defer it until after I served my time, but the blast put the stop on any offers. I don’t think they were in too much of a rush to have an injured soldier in their team.” He lets out a puff of a laugh and shakes his head.
When he looks at me again, he realizes my hands are back on his legs and my fingertips trail up and down his thighs, scraping my nails gently over the tender skin of his inner thighs.
“You are the only man I have ever had in my bed since the accident, any encounter I had before that night with you was impersonal and perfunctory, an itch to scratch. None of the them, and there weren’t many, were interested in me when they found out.” Corrie’s voice hitches as I continue to stroke his smooth, soft skin.
I look him straight in the eye as I kneel and lower my head to his leg. Initially, my lips barely touch his skin but at the first tremor I plant another kiss, more firmly this time. “You are beautiful.” I kiss him again, “You are strong.” Another kiss, “You are brave.” My last kiss touches the end of his thigh, the redness from the chafing has lessened but I pepper kisses over the tender flesh.
Peering up, I see tears rolling silently down Corrie’s cheeks, his teeth bite down hard on his bottom lip, his eyes shut as he holds back a sob. Standing, I cup his face, “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you now.”
A deep moan rises in his chest as Corrie grabs my hips. Leaning into my hands, his eyes open and the fire flaring in them has me kissing him hard. Pressing my tongue against his closed lips, I seek entrance. As his mouth opens, his tongue slides slowly over mine. Getting harder and deeper, this kiss is everything; Corrie suffuses every pent up hurt and need into it.
Gasping for breath, we break apart, my forehead resting against his as we pant. Lifting my head, I smile at his tender look. “You gonna get ready for our date, or what?”
Corrie’s body relaxes as he lets out a low chuckle, “Yeah, I guess I’d better. It’s late, but not too late.” I see he wants to say more but, with a shake of his head, he keeps his silence. I watch as he reaches over for his crutches, I know better than to offer any assistance. I notice how dangerous the tiled floor is and decide to research safer floor covering; I must speak to Troy about it.
Corrie easily maneuvers his way through to his room and into his walk-in closet, turning towards me before choosing his clothes. “What do you like to eat? Are we going fancy or casual?”
“I think casual, tonight, maybe Italian?” I’m a glutton when it comes to Italian food and will always choose it above any other.
“Cool, I know a really nice place.” Corrie moves into his closet.
“I’ll go get dressed.” I pick up the hastily discarded clothes from earlier, reminding me of my intense orgasm. My head is full of so many feelings and thoughts, I don’t know where to start deciphering them. Moving quickly to my room, I hunt through my case for something good to wear; I don’t want to let Corrie down. Shit, I’ve never thought about what I look like for anyone ever before. A huge smile spreads over my face.
Pulling dark jeans and a black T-shirt out and then a dark grey, button down to wear over the top, it’s casual enough, I think. Heading into the bathroom, I examine myself in the mirror and see a different person looking back at me: a more relaxed, even happy, returns my gaze. I smile, then burst out laughing at the change one man has caused in my life. He has turned my world upside down. Who could ever have guessed?
I feel lighter, like a heavy weight has been lifted from me. I hadn’t realized how ashamed I was of my injury. I’ve never been a vain man but I know I look okay. Still, the shrapnel left some ugly scars and I have been self-conscious of them. How can Griff look at me like he does? He sees through it all, and now, sitting with him in a crowded restaurant, I feel happy. I didn’t realize I wasn’t until he broke down my barriers. I’m not a broken, damaged man: I’m a survivor. Another smile lights my face.
“What’s going on up there, Corrie?” Griff smiles and spears the last olive from the small bowl in the middle of the table.
“Nothing,” I smile back, my grin still wide.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll have to think of a way of getting it out of you.” Griff’s eyes go dark as he looks at me, his tongue slips across his lower lip, skating over the oil-slick surface.
“Pack it in, Griff.” I whisper. Fortunately, the waiter comes back to us with our meal and, after a flourish of black pepper and Parmesan cheese, we are left alone.
“So, what happens next, Corrie?” Griff cuts through a huge plate of lasagna, the aroma rich and delicious.
“You need to be a be a bit more specific, Griff.” I twirl thick, creamy noodles around my fork, I know what he’s talking about but wonder if he’s comfortable.
“Us, what happens next with us. Are we boyfriends, are we still just working things out?” Griff carries on eating as if this isn’t a big deal.
“I’m struggling, Griff,” I speak quietly, not wanting the full tables around us to hear, but Griff frowns, his eyes creasing at the edges. “I’m struggling with how it’s you who is so accepting. That you seem to have simply accepted that we are together.”
I reach for my wine glass and take a large gulp of the rich red liquid. Griff carries on, watching me struggle, the twitch in his jaw giving away his tension, but I continue. “Why…how? I don’t understand how easily you have come to terms with a complete turnaround of your sexuality? How are you doing it? I’m barely treading water at the thought of being with you.” Griff looks angry as he scowls. “Look, I’m saying this all wrong: I never thought I would see you again and I sure as hell never thought you would want to see me. So, I’m trying to work out how you got from a known ladies’ man to wanting men, and how easily you have wanted sex with a man.”
“I don’t want to have sex with men, I don’t even want men. I want you, just you, Corrie. I had to trust my instinct very early on, in my life and my career. I know that I want you, so I trust my thoughts and my feelings. I know you make me feel things and want things I never knew existed. You make me happy.” Griff picks up his fork and starts to eat again. “Don’t let that go cold, babe, it looks good.” Smiling, he lifts his glass and raises it to me.
I shake my head to clear the jumble of thoughts racing around as I try to pick a hole in his reasoning. There isn’t one, I simply must believe he tells me the truth. One thing does spring up that I need to ask.
“For how long, though, Griff? How long will I be what you want?” This is the crux of my problem, my issue with us.
“For a long as you will have me, Corrie. As long as that.” It’s a simple, honest and very typically Griff answer.
“Okay then, that’s good to know.” I smile and start to eat.