Chapter Nineteen

 

Culhwch

 

3 months later

 

“Are you sure this is the centrepiece you want?” Sophia asks, drawing my attention back to her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s just that… forgive me for saying this, but you seem a little distracted. Distracted enough to not notice the finer detail that you’d normally home in on.”

What can I say? I can’t tell her about Denny, it’s not my place. She might be my best friend, and I might trust her with my life. But she’s also my fiancé’s sister-in-law and it would put her in an awkward position if I asked her not to tell Alex.

I really wish I could convince Houston to tell his family about Denny, but I have been unsuccessful so far. He says that he’d rather wait until he knows if Ana will allow him access. He seems to think his mum and dad would nag him about seeing their grandson, so he’d rather keep it to himself in case it blows up in his face.

I know it’s his choice, so I keep my mouth closed on the subject unless he brings it up—which he doesn’t often.

“What’s wrong with it, Sof? Just speak plainly.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, per se. It’s just not what I imagined you choosing, you know?”

“To be honest Sof, I don’t know that this is one hundred per cent what we want. It was more like we just didn’t want to trawl any more ideas on the internet. We’d been through so many already that I think we just agreed on this one to give us one less thing to worry about.”

“See, that’s what I mean. You should want this because it’s what you really want, not as a compromise or a last-minute agreement. Why don’t you let me see if I can come up with something?”

“You’re already helping so much when I have to work. I don’t want to put anything else on you.”

“You’re not. I’m offering. And I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.”

“Thanks, Sof,” I say as I reach out and take her hand, “you’re a lifesaver. What would I do without you?”

“Have bland centrepieces?” she replies with a giggle.

I laugh along with her, and boy it feels good. It’s so good to just sit here with my best friend, drinking coffee and looking at wedding-related stuff.

“So, I’m guessing you’re wondering what I have in store for your stag night.”

“Well, Houston is off having his tux fitted, and it’s just the two of us, so I was actually wondering if you’d let me in on what Alex is planning for his brother. I don’t want my groom ending up in Amsterdam, tied to a lamppost with nothing to cover his modesty.”

“Why do you think the boys insisted on having the stag a week before the wedding instead of the night before? They need time for him to find his way home.”

She struggles to keep a straight face before bursting out laughing.

“You should see the look on your face,” she says as she laughs. “Oh my god… it’s priceless.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Sophia Wainwright.”

“I’m sorry.” She tries to get her laughter under control. “I just couldn’t resist. I don’t actually know what Alex has planned; he refuses to tell me.”

“You mean you can’t use your feminine wiles to persuade him?”

“Well, I mean… I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”

“You haven’t? Well, get to it.”

She feigns being offended when I burst out laughing.

“I’ll try. I can’t promise he’ll give me any answers, but if you don’t try, you don’t get, right?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something to promise him in return.”

“And what if he really does plan to go to Amsterdam?”

“Then you promise him sexual favours in return for changing his plans, of course.”

“Make sure to leave him with some clean boxers, money and his passport, obviously,” she says with a wink.

“Getting back to my stag do, what do you have planned?”

“Ah, that would be telling.”

“Hence why I’m asking.”

“Oh, hush you. I’m not telling you.”

“Please say there won’t be strippers?” I plead, trying my best to give her the puppy-dog eye look.

“I can’t promise anything,” she replies with a smirk.

“Sophia Wainwright, there will not be strippers. If there is, you will be stripped of your ‘best woman’ role.”

“And where would you find anyone as awesome as me at such short notice?” she deadpans.

“Sof, I could search the whole world over and never find anyone as awesome as you. But if you plan on there being baby oil and naked men, then I’d happily replace you with… well, at this point anyone would do. Anyone that promised me no strippers.”

“Buzzkill,” she says before poking her tongue out at me. “You’re just no fun!”

“And I’m not even sorry.”

“Are you nervous?”

Sophia gets up and puts the kettle on before grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“About the stag do? Very.”

“No, silly,” she says as she turns to face me, “about the wedding.”

“I would be lying if I said no. But it’s not cold feet. It’s not even about me.”

She hands me a steaming mug of coffee and sits back down at the kitchen island, opposite me.

“Then what is it about?”

“I’m worried for Houston. Did you know about the message boards and stuff?”

“Message boards? I’m lost.”

I fill her in on the nasty messages that trolls have been leaving online since Houston came out. She looks at me, completely aghast, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Sheesh, Cul, I never knew. What can be done about it?”

“The band’s manager, Lawrence, tried getting them taken down, but as soon as they come down, more go up in their place. It’s one step forward, two steps back. He puts a brave face on it, but I can tell it still hurts him.”

“I’m so sorry, Cul,” she replies sweetly as she takes my hand in hers.

Her skin is soft, and her touch is delicate, but it gives me a feeling of being grounded. Before I met Houston, Sophia was my anchor. She’s my best friend. It makes me wonder how I ever got so lucky. Without her in my life, things would be very different.

“There were articles in gossip rags about us, photos taken of us walking down the street holding hands; that’s why he went on television. But the nasty comments didn’t stop. If anything, they got worse. But then people came out in support of him and the good outweighed the bad, you know?”

“And now?”

“The good comments still outweigh the bad, but even though I don’t check for new comments as often as I did at first, it still bothers me. And I know it weighs on Houston.”

“And that makes you feel nervous for the wedding because…?”

“Because we got engaged on the television for all to see. That means that no matter how small and private we want to keep the wedding, there’s no way to keep it completely off the radar. So, what if some of these trolls turn up on the day?”

“Oh honey,” she sighs. “I can promise you now that nobody who spouts off behind a screen is brave enough to turn up and cause a scene.”

“What makes you so sure?”

I pick up my mug and take a deep gulp, appreciating the caffeine.

“Because they are keyboard warriors. They will sit there and spout off behind the safety of a screen but wouldn’t say boo to a goose. They are the type to let their fingers do the talking, but when it comes to face to face, they aren’t brave enough to say anything. They’re the people who have nothing better to do, have boring lives of their own, so they try to make misery for others. But I swear to you, they won’t turn up. They’re too chicken.”

“Forgive me if I’m not fully convinced.”

Sighing, I scrub a hand over my face.

“Could you arrange for security on the day? I mean, Houston is a celebrity, so surely band management would want security on the doors of the venue and stuff. They’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“I guess we could ask Lawrence. I just don’t want to say anything to Houston about how I’m feeling. I’m trying to be the strong one, strong for him, you know? So how do I ask him about security?”

“I mean, you know, I’d say it’s better to just be honest with him. You know I don’t like secrets and lies; they have a way of haunting you. But if you’re really not comfortable with telling him before the big day, then try and convince him using another reason—his fame or something. Then you can always tell him afterwards, when it isn’t likely to ruin the mood.”

“I don’t want to burst his bubble. He’s really excited about getting married. But I think you’re right about honesty. It’s the best policy. I’m just hoping he’ll see it’s because I have his best interests at heart.”

“He can’t be mad at you for loving him enough to be worried about him.”

She squeezes my hand and offers me a genuine smile.

I take in the sight of her; her newly dyed auburn hair that frames her face perfectly is lit by the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. She’s the epitome of natural beauty. Her eyes as blue as sapphires are full of love and a touch of concern for her best friend and her brother-in-law.

The one thing I love most about this woman is that she’s always taken me for what I am. She’s always loved me for who I am, hasn’t tried to change me or make me someone I’m not. She accepted the fact that I was gay as if I were merely telling her the sky was blue or the grass was green. Nothing fazed her. Still doesn’t all these years later. That’s why she’s my “best woman”. There really isn’t anyone else I’d rather have beside me on my big day.

“Anyway, changing the subject… your colour scheme…”

“We were thinking of pastel purple.”

“You read my mind. I was going to say a shade of purple would be awesome.”

“You were? But your favourite colour is pink, so I assumed you’d try to convince us to go with that.”

“Well, salmon pink would be nice…” she trails off.

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?”

Her eyes give her away.

“Well… I might have seen a dress that I like in the window of Mindy’s Boutique in town.”

“A purple dress?”

“Yes,” she claps her hands together with glee. “It’s so pretty, Cul.”

“Then I guess you’d better take me there and show me this dress.”

“Oh Cul, you’re going to love it. It’s breath-taking. I know I’m normally a pink girl, but when I saw it, I just fell in love,” she rambles adorably. “I just know you’re going to love it too.”

“I’m working tonight, so tomorrow morning is a no-go. But I could meet you in town around one o’clock.”

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t tell your husband you have a date with a better-looking man,” I tease.

“My lips are sealed,” she says as she pretends to zip her lips.

I don’t know what I’d do without this woman. She can sense how stressed I am and change the subject to put a smile back on my face. But she also knows how to ease my mind when the serious things eat away at me.

“On that note, I need to get a start on cooking so that Houston and I can eat together before I have to work.”

“Want some help?”

“Sure. You can chop the vegetables while I prepare the spatchcock chicken.”

“Mmm, sounds nice.”

“I’d invite you to stay and eat with us, but you wouldn’t want to be here for dessert,” I reply with a wink.

“Oh my goodness,” she shrieks, her face turning pink.

“It’s just squirty cream and strawberries… maybe a blowjob.”

Her skin blushes even more profusely.

“Culhwch Lee Matherson,” she scolds. “You are a very dirty boy.”

“Only when it comes to one man.”

“You two are so great together. I can see why you love him.”

“Because he’s a sex addict too?” I ask, and she guffaws, totally unladylike.

“Culhwch, so help me god, if you don’t get your mind out of the gutter and make a start on cooking, I will strangle you. Stop saying things to corrupt my innocent mind.”

“Innocent? You? Don’t make me laugh.”

I get a good, hard dig in the ribs for that one.

We set about chopping and getting everything ready with some music on in the background.

“Have you decided on a song for your first dance?” Sophia asks over the dulcet tones of the man who is my hall pass: Brendon Urie.

“We haven’t agreed on one, but I have one in mind.”

“Do tell…” she trails off, waiting for me to expand on my song choice.

“I’ll give you a clue; it’s from our all-time favourite musical film.”

“Rewrite the Stars,” she says with a squeal.

The two of us must have seen The Greatest Showman a million times since it was released. Houston pretended that he didn’t like it, and that Sophia and I must be mental to watch it at least once a month, but he lied. He loves it just as much as we do.

As if Hugh Jackman isn’t a good enough reason to watch it—which, my god, he really is—there’s also Zac Efron who is also a total hottie—maybe more so now he has what people are calling a “dad bod”, which I actually think makes him more attractive.

But it isn’t the hot guys that make the film, it’s the amazing music, the cast… everything about it really. I could listen to the soundtrack on repeat and never get bored of it.

I don’t really like the “reimagined” album of songs by other artists. For me, it’s mostly about the original songs. There is, however, an exception to the rule—Brendon Urie singing “The Greatest Show”. Panic! At the Disco could have done it for the film, in my opinion.

Of course, I adore Hugh Jackman singing it, but I have a real soft spot for Mr. Urie.

“Do you think Houston will go for it?”

“It depends if use your wiles to convince him,” she replies with a smirk.

“I won’t need them; I’ll just give him the doe-eyed look he can’t refuse.”

“Which version would you want it to be?”

“Zac Efron and Zendaya, of course.”

I act affronted that she would think anything else. She bumps her hip against mine before finishing the chopping.

Reaching over, I scroll through my iPod until I find the soundtrack to the film. I turn the volume up and get back to the task at hand.

Sophia sings along and I can’t help but get lost in her melodic voice. She’s too shy to sing in front of many people; I am one of very few that get to see her let her inhibitions go. But she has a seriously beautiful voice.

***

“That was seriously delicious baby,” Houston says as I gather our plates to load the dishwasher.

“I’m not completely to thank. Sof helped before she had to get back for the girls.”

“Did you two have a nice time?”

“Well, she may have already chosen a dress for the wedding. It’s lucky we’re having purple as our theme.”

“She’s set her heart on something already?”

“She saw a dress in the window of Mindy’s Boutique in town. We’re meeting tomorrow so she can show it to me… and most likely so she can try it on.”

“That should be fun,” he says, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Out of the two of us, Houston is the one that likes to shop more. I prefer to order things online. If I’m clothes shopping, I’ll go into a store, find what I want and buy it without trying it on. I try it on when I get home and if it doesn’t fit, I take it back to exchange it.

Houston would say that’s the more complicated way of doing things, but I just don’t like trying clothes on.

“Did you find a tux?” I ask as I wrap my arms around him from behind where he’s sitting on the stool, my head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I did. What are you going to do, bring one home to try on and take it back if it doesn’t fit?”

“That’s the only thing I’ll try on in store. You’re so mean to me,” I reply as I tickle his ribs for making fun of me.

“I found a cravat in the perfect shade of purple. Pastel, just like we saw online.”

“I can’t wait to see my handsome fiancé dressed to kill.”

“Just call me Bond, James Bond.”

His awful impression of Sean Connery makes me laugh. God, my fiancé is corny as hell. It’s a good job I love him anyway.

“Is there any dessert?” he asks as I kiss his cheek before walking to the fridge.

I hand him a can of squirty cream and stand with a punnet of strawberries in my hand. His eyes light up and he’s up off the stool, heading in the direction of the stairs before I can say another word.

As I reach the bedroom door, I see him pulling his T-shirt off. The taut muscles of his back are divine, just like the rest of him. I put the strawberries on the bedside table and turn to face him.

“Come here,” I say in a soft whisper.

Houston walks towards me and I reach out to undo his jeans. I slide the material over his hips and down to his knees.

Soft hands reach out and take the hem of my T-shirt, so I raise my arms to allow him to tug it off.

Our clothes land in a puddle as we slowly strip each other naked. His budding erection stands to attention, begging to be touched.

I reach down to stroke him, using the pre-cum that glistens there to rub my thumb around the tip of him. His involuntary reaction is a shudder that runs through him. I delight in seeing the reaction he has to my touch. In all the years we’ve known each other, neither of us have ever bored of each other’s touch.

“Culhwch,” he whispers.

“What’s up, baby?”

“I need you so badly.”

“Oh you do, do you?” I ask as I stroke his cock up and down.

“I’ll get down on my knees and beg, if you want me to,” he replies, his voice husky and dripping desire.

“You on your knees would be a glorious sight,” I say as my insides clench at the mere thought.

We haven’t got long before I have to shower and head to work, but I want every moment to count.

“Grab the squirty cream,” he whispers.

I stroke him once more before doing as he says. I shake the can and squirt it down over my erection.

A groan reverberates through me as Houston licks the cream before sliding his mouth over the tip of my cock. Swirling his tongue around me, he makes the blood in my veins begin to sing. It’s nothing short of euphoria when he takes just what he wants, where and how he wants, just like now.

His hand grips the base of my shaft and moves in sync with his mouth.

I find myself being pushed gently backwards until the backs of my knees hit the mattress, where Houston nudges my legs open and settles between them.

Lying back, I grab a pillow and put it under my head so I can keep my eyes trained on his every move.

Looking up at me through hooded eyes, Houston conveys every emotion he’s feeling—desire, lust and so much love.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as alive as this man makes me feel. It’s almost like I was numb until he came along and breathed life into me.

The way he’s touching me, stroking me, licking me, it all culminates in making me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. He sets my soul on fire. The passion I feel for him is unequalled by anything else in my life and I know the feeling is reciprocated.

The familiar tightening feeling comes over me. My balls tingle and I know I am so close to my climax. Houston can read my body so well, which is why he looks up at me just as his finger goes to my puckered flesh. And like a detonation button, he pushes inside me, and I come in hot spurts down his throat.

“Fuuuuck,” I call out as my orgasm tears through me.

He licks me clean before grinning up at me with the most salacious, shit-eating grin.

Climbing up onto the bed next to me, I notice he has a strawberry in his mouth. I lean in to take a bite and kiss him as the juice dribbles down my chin. He pulls back and licks the trail of juice before claiming my lips in a brutal kiss.

“Holy fuck, Houston,” I say as he breaks the kiss.

“I need you, Cul,” he whispers in a husky voice.

“Tell me what you need.”

“You against the headboard, wrists cuffed to the bar…”

“Where are the…” I trail off as he shows me the handcuffs.

I let him cuff my wrists to the top bar of our headboard and internally thank him for choosing this style that has horizontal bars. The handcuffs dig in my wrists slightly, but I find I don’t mind the sting. The anticipation alone may kill me. I’m not sure I can wait any longer.

He slaps my ass and I let out a little yelp, which of course makes him do it again… harder.

When he grabs my hips possessively, my heart swells. I have never let another man act as possessively as Houston does, but when he does it, it’s sexy. He wants me. He needs me. More importantly, he loves me.

He aligns his erection with me, pushing just the tip in. It stings, but in a delicious way. He allows me a moment to adjust before pushing inside slowly. As he sinks deeper, a moan escapes me. My head falls back and I enjoy the sensation as he begins to push in and out of me. His movements are slow and purposeful. He’s making every moment count. The build-up of his movements seems to be in sync with my swelling emotions.

“Fuck baby, I love you so much.”

“I–I love you t–too,” I stutter as he ups his pace.

Nothing else is said, the only sounds are that of our ragged breaths and moans. He slides almost all the way out before slamming back into me. My heart stutters as he repeats the movement another couple of times.

“Cul…”

“Y–yes?”

“You own me.”

As he builds a punishing rhythm, I cry out over and over. A long groan escapes him as his movements begin to falter. I push my ass back towards him, meeting his thrusts.

“Culhwch.” My name falls from his lips.

His orgasm rips through him and he stills as he comes inside me.

“Fuck,” he says as he rests his broad chest against my back.

I look back over my shoulder and his lips meet mine in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue dances with mine and I can still taste myself on his tongue. If only I had more time before I had to go to work.

“Shit, baby, you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on,” he says as he breaks the kiss.

“Shower with me?” I ask.

He unlocks the handcuffs and I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him in for another kiss.

Houston lets out a wry chuckle as he feels my erection between us.

“Somebody is up for round two.”

“Get in that shower and I’ll show you exactly what I want.”

He gets up and grabs my hand, pulling me off the bed and towards our en suite. Once inside, he turns the water on and lets it warm up for a second before stepping in.

“Turn around.”

He does as he’s told, and he braces himself against the tiles.

“Ready?”

“For you? Always.”