Page 59 of Wood

Ben groans behind me. “Shot flights are evil.”

Huffing, I reply, “You’re the one who spilled the beans to Freddie. He always brings out shot flights at bachelor parties.”

He slumps onto the couch. “I suppose it’s traditional for the groom to be hungover when he gets married.” He laughs. “Grooms.”

“You’re lucky they didn’t tie us back-to-back and let the boys see who could cum first,” I huff.

He gapes at me.

“Oh, yeah, they love that one,” I laugh as I set down some electrolyte water and ibuprofen alongside some toast. I peel a banana, and he watches with scrunched eyes. “Get away, Satan,” he mutters as I bite into it. I hand it to him and let him tease me with the phallic shaped fruit. We slowly consume the post-hangover treatment, and I’m feeling mostly human by five.

We manage a dinner of meatballs and spaghetti, then dress in our best suits. No ties, we agreed. He looks hot as hell. The silver at his temples gleams.

My stomach is fluttering by the time eight o’clock comes and the sun approaches the horizon. Ben brings the boxes out with our rings, and I gulp. We are doing this.

He moves in front of me, pulling me to standing next to the chaise lounge where I made the first move.

“I love you, Geoff,” he says softly. “I don’t have a big speech. You have been my rock since we met. You give me a calm that I’ve never ever found before. You and I have reached heights together I never knew existed. I just want you by my side from now on.” His voice quavers and he swallows. “Hard to believe we have only been together for a few months. We are going to have so much fun. Love, cherish, richer, poorer, all of the things. You’re it for me.”

Tears are rolling down my cheeks. “Dammit, how am I supposed to talk now, Ben,” I grumble, swiping the tears away with my fingers. I inhale a deep breath, then stare into his beautiful brown eyes. “I have never felt closer to a person than I do with you. Sometimes I panic, thinking this can’t last, but here you are, binding yourself to me.” I sniff, swiping more tears. “Losing Mom and Dad taught me that it can be ripped away with no warning. So grab the love, grab it with both hands, hold it tight and nurture it, support it. I love being your rock, being your guard dog, and getting it back from you in so many ways. And I get to do that for the rest of our lives. How fucking lucky am I? How lucky are we, Ben, that we have this? Richer, poorer, sickness, health, all the days of our lives.”

Ben wipes his face with his hands. “Shit, we are a couple of saps, aren’t we.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Lucky saps.” I reach for his ring box and grin, prying it open and dropping to one knee, holding it up for him. His eyes crinkle with pleasure. Damn right I remembered. “Marry me, Ben?”

“Fuck baby, yeah, I do,” he says, taking the ring out of the box and handing it to me to slide onto his finger. Holy shit, it blazes in the setting sunlight. No one is going to miss that. He opens my ring box and pulls the band out, holding it up to the light. “Marry me, Geoff?”

Nodding, I manage to croak out, “Yeah, I do, too”. My hand shakes as I hold it out to him. Light bursts from my finger as he slides it on. He tugs hard on my hands so I’m standing right in front of him, then holds my face, holding me like I’m precious as he leans in and whispers, “Hello, Husband.”

Holy shit, I’m married.

Chocolate cake and champagne are not meant to be eaten in bed, but that’s what we do. He smears cake over his chest, then demands I clean him up. I certainly am not going to say no. I slurp my way across his body, smearing it all over my face as I go. His turn to clean me up. Oh darn, it’s on my cock. He laughs and shoves me down, engulfing my shaft with his mouth, then sucking on me until I’m begging, pleading.

He flips me over face down and pours lube down my crack, then slides his cock between my thighs, rutting against me as I squirm and beg. Tugging me to my elbows and knees, he gently presses his fingers into me, stretching me with kisses to my spine, my ass cheeks as he works me open. Pressing a hand to my shoulders to keep me down, he fills me with his cock and I’m soaring. Thrust after thrust, I’m babbling, begging, until he wraps his hand around my cock. Oh god, I can feel his new ring on my cock, holy shit, my husband is inside me.

“Oh, fuck, Ben,” I scream. “My husband, holy fuck, oh god Ben, I can’t, I can’t…”

“Cum baby,” he growls as he pumps his cum into me. “Cum, Husband, cum for me.”

We slept in the guest house bed. Ours was trashed between cake and champagne and cum, so we just staggered across the deck and collapsed, wrapped in each other. God, I love being the little spoon, falling asleep secure in his arms.

A shared shower with me staring up at Ben while I suck him into my mouth and jack myself onto the shower floor is a beautiful start to our day.

Once we are presentable, we take a few photos of our hands in front of the empty champagne bottle and post to our social media. Our phones immediately start pinging, and we turn them off. Whether the messages are death threats or congratulations, today is ours. Our first day as husbands.

We’ll be packing up to head to Alberta tomorrow to get a few days of walking and practicing ahead of the tournament hordes.

Ben is chatting with the Board of Directors of the Genesse Hills Club to get a feel for what buying into the club would look like. He isn’t really ready to stop touring yet, but says he wants to explore the option. Running an entire golf course is a whole different world. But the appeal of not being under pressure to perform for sponsors and spectators? That’s huge.

With time to kill, I wander my old stomping grounds. This really is a beautiful course. Signs around the clubhouse state that the board is working with the Audubon Society to be certified as a wildlife sanctuary. I lean on a railing on the clubhouse deck, watching birds wading and paddling around the main pond.

I spot Mac as I walk past the equipment tent. He’s working on one of the club’s bags, restringing some of the pockets, with an old pocketknife in one hand. He glances up and squints at me, staring at the ring on my hand.

“Well, shit,” he says, rising to shake my hand. “Heard you married your golfer. Whole club heard.”

“Yeah.” I raise my hand, marveling again. “Got me a good one, Mac.”

He chuckles and sits back down with the bag.