Acceptance

A week later, after having had to fight for days to cheer him up and help him forget the dream, Anthony finally had Bruce pressed against him, kissing him. It had taken constant efforts to distract him and consistent attention to making sure he looked too good to say no to. Bruce had been subdued and reluctant in their personal life. He, in fact, had seemed to only be participating to spare Anthony’s feelings. This of course had not worked, since Anthony had a hard time not beginning to doubt Bruce’s feelings with him acting with so much trepidation, but he did his best to hold onto the belief that Bruce wanted him, knowing it was silly to doubt it at this point, and was now being rewarded. Firm, warm hands were gripping at him lightly, pulling him closer. Anthony let his knees part as Bruce slid between them, breathing a sigh of relief. He had been concerned that if he did not let Bruce initiate this, he would scare him away, but waiting for him had been frustrating. As it turned out what Bruce really seemed to need was a few good laughs, a few trips down memory lane, to some of their better times, and for Anthony to wear tighter denim.



“God, I want you.” Bruce breathed near his ear, and Anthony knew he would hold onto the memory of him saying that for the rest of his life.



Anthony celebrated inwardly when Bruce’s fingers scrambled at the edge of his tee-shirt, peeling it upward and off him, dropping into a black puddle of fabric next to them, forgotten. He was pushed down to the bed, so that his slightly shorter friend could have a better advantage, and kissed roughly as he played with the tighter curls near Bruce’s neck. He did not have to stop kissing him to remove the other man’s shirt. He unbuttoned it down the front and yanked it out of his belt so that, when Bruce pulled his arms out, the beige collared-shirt joined his on the floor. Rough fingers traced down his ankles as his socks were removed. He moved his hands to Bruce’s belt and began undoing it slowly, still weary that his friend might stop him. Once it was off though, and had not jarred him into slowing down, he rejoined the frenzied rush to get their clothing out of the way.



Bruce was not really thinking. In fact, he was trying hard not to. He knew that his reluctance over the past while was starting to depress his friend. He had allowed Anthony’s distractions eagerly over the past few days, and was now thinking about things as little as he thought he could safely get away with. Kiss him, get his clothing gone, hold him down, make him squirm, really enjoy it; that was the plan. Finally, they were naked and he was able to grind against him, into that spot that made his voice a bit higher and made him extra sensitive. He felt himself get slippery, allowed himself to slide lower, press against him; he wanted in so badly. Anthony did not seem to mind, arching his back into him and wiggling against him, but then suddenly froze. Bruce looked up, concerned.



Anthony was trying not to cringe. It was nothing Bruce was doing; a nerve was pinching down his back and making his ribs feel a bit tight. He just needed to shift so that the muscles in his spine would let the disk shift minutely back into place and release the pressure on the nerve. This happened to him all the time, thanks to the nerve damage he had sustained, but now was the worst possible moment for it.



“Just a nerve. It’s fine." he said as nonchalantly as possible, trying to keep his friend from worrying.



Bruce had already frozen in place, the moment Anthony had, and now watched his friend wince with concern. He wondered if he was hurting him, after all, he could easily end up doing that. He had made the mistake now of thinking again. An image of the dream he had had came unbidden, and very unwanted, into his mind; his friend, broken. He turned white.



“I… I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” Bruce was out the door before Anthony could say anything.