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I nodded.
“I love you Honey St George. I’m in love with you.”
“I like it. I like hearing those words on your lips. I think I’m going to need to hear you say them every day, for the rest of our lives, just so I don’t forget.”
He reached for me then and pulled me to him. I didn’t hesitate to oblige, sliding into his lap, then kneeling to face him, with my butt resting in his lap, pushing down into his growing erection.
I glided my hands into his thick, dark curls, and he snaked his hands around my back at the same time, nuzzling softly into my collarbone.
“You want to know when I realized?”
“That you were in love with me?”
“No. When I realized how babies were made. Of course, when I knew I was in love with you.” He joked lightly. I guess I walked straight into that one.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, I’m not thinking straight, which I think is understandable, considering everything that’s just happened, on top of all the shit that’s gone down in the past few weeks before that. It’s dizzying. Yes, I would like to know when you knew. Please.”
“It was on that fucking hike. I mean, despite everything I said at the time, I only agreed to go so that I could spend time with you, even if it meant doing something I hated to get it. And let’s be clear, I fucking hated that hike, every last ‘isn’t nature wonderful’ moment of it, except for the fact that it was with you, and that it led to me being ‘with’ you in the biblical sense.”
I smiled at the thought of the hike. It had been like a four-hour long arduous foreplay session. Just the epic verbal ping-pong had been enough to get my panties wet, let alone the sight of Bear in all his buff and virile glory.
“Sure enough when we got to the top, I had a kind of come to Jesus moment. Then when we had sex, and I came, I think I actually saw Jesus, and that was it for me. Not that I could see it or articulate it in that exact way at the time, but yeah...” As he spoke, he was gracing my collarbone with agonizingly tiny kisses. For a such a big and burly guy he could be infuriatingly gentle and delicate when he wanted to be.
“Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a time and a place to be slow and tender, and this is not it. We have the rest of our lives to slowly savor every moment, but for right now, I’m going to need you to live up to your namesake, and fuck me like you mean it.”
“Oh really?” He stopped what he was doing, and brought his eyeline to meet mine.
“Yep.” I nodded slowly.
“Okay, Honey Bee, hold tight, because I’m about to show you what bears really do in the woods.”
Epilogue
Bear
Five Years Later
“To Cherie Moore.” I clinked my champagne glass with Honey’s, and took a greedy gulp.
“Ugh. Why do you always insist on toasting to her on our ‘anniversary’? I don’t want to give that girl credit for the best thing that ever happened to me.” She pouted, and my dick stiffened, both at her words and the look on her face.
Five years on, and waking up next to her never got old. In fact, being with her in any way was still as thrilling today as it had been five years earlier, and the truth was, I had never progressed beyond the perma hard-on stage with her. I was like a perennial high-schooler, where she was concerned.
“So, you’re saying that the day you first had sex with me was the best day of your life?” I was teasing, and she knew it; this was a tried and tested conversation of ours, and we trotted out our ‘lines’ like a comedy duo performing a well-worn skit.
“Yes and no. I mean the sex was…well, let’s just say that if that’s what bears do in the woods, then more people should be like bears. But more than that, it was the day where we went from intrepid reporter and angry alpha to….more.”
“Exactly. Which is why I think a toast to Cherie is in order. If it wasn’t for her ‘dumb and sloppy’ actions with those photos, I wouldn’t be here now, with the most beautiful woman in the world, and the hard-on from hell. Let’s face it, without those Polaroids, we would never have gone on that hike. You would have done the interview, writing me off as just another arrogant, bird-brained jock, and I would have had you down as an uptight wannabe-hack with a stick up her ass; and never the twain shall meet.” As it is, our twains—and the rest of us—met hard, and continue to meet, much to my delight.
That story had definitely had a much better ending for the two of us than it had for Cherie.
Once Xavier worked out that she was the one fucking with us with the Polaroids, everything else had made a whole lot more sense. As an ‘old friend’ (read: sometime fuck buddy) of Xavier and Drew—they’d all gone to school together—she’d at one time been in the privileged position of knowing who the members of Cygnus were, and some details of how the organization operated. That privilege had ended when relations between she and Xavier had soured after he’d hooked up with Rocky.
While he and Drew had pretty much forgotten about her once they’d paired up with their girlfriends, Cherie hadn’t been able to let go so easily. She’d stalked around for over a year, collecting “evidence” about us, even anonymously tipping off Honey, and setting her off on the trail to find out more about the ‘mysterious secret society,’ in the hopes of bringing us down.
