And, best of all, I didn’t hear that shitty voice in my head telling me that allowing them to do what they just did is disgusting. Don’t get me wrong, the bad thoughts didn’t just disappear the moment Brooks and I started fooling around. I’m not magically cured, by any means.
They still haunt me when I wake up next to him with his arm casually slung over me. They still berate me when I lean in for a kiss sometimes. They especially got after me the other night when Brooks and I sat down to watch a movie together and ended up jerking each other off instead.
The night was meant to be casual and relaxing, but it was anything but that, when the reality of everything that’s happened lately caught up with me, and I broke down. Not sure why, I should be relieved to finally be able to be honest and open about everything, but I guess Inow see why people say it’s cathartic to just have a good cry and let everything out. So, I did. Brooks held me through it all.
He didn’t see my sudden breakdown as a sort of regression. He didn’t make me feel like shit for sobbing on his couch. He gave me comfort and assured me that it’s perfectly normal to have ongoing bouts of vulnerability, even when things are seemingly going well. Sometimes, what triggers those moments can’t be explained, but it’s okay to let it all out.
I’m still a little embarrassed about how much I cried in front of him, but I’m only human. Rome wasn’t built in a day, they say.
Then, he threw my ‘unicorn fart auras’ analogy back at me, and we had a good laugh—ending the night on a lighter note. I’m so fucking grateful mine and Brooks’ paths crossed. It’s probably unhealthy, this codependency I’ve built around him, but I can’t bring myself to care. I know I’m not fully ready to completely stand on my own yet, but with his help, I’m getting there.
I’m sure those insidious thoughts will creep up again, when the order of lace panties Brooks picked out and bought for me comes in. I’m sure they’ll especially justlovethe garters and stockings he picked out to go with them. Actually, it was a whole outfit. He found some see-through mesh top thing, similar to the one I found in his hamper, to complete the whole ensemble.
Despite the thoughts telling me it’s wrong, nasty, or disgusting—I can’t help but admit I’m more than just a little excited too. I can’t tell yet if it’s just to see Brooks’ reaction, or if it’s something I can really get into. I get the feeling he likes it, but he’s just too preconditioned to be self-conscious about his body to admit it.
Guess we’ll find out after we get the package later today.
“Uh… Dad?” Colton asks, yanking me from my daydream.
“Yeah?”
“Petro asked if you wanted any help. We’ve got the rest of the afternoon off.” He nods over to the platform behind me and grins. “I don’t know a lot about construction, but I do know a lot aboutdestruction. Want us to help beat the shit out of that rotten lumber?”
“Well, goddamn,” I huff out excitedly, with a broad grin splitting my face, “my son actuallywantsto hang out with me today.”
Colton rolls his eyes and Petro laughs, poking Colt in the ribs playfully.
I chuckle and nod down at Colt’s phone, dangling precariously from his front pocket. “Cue up some of your screamo shit and grab a hammer.”
He grins, and for the first time in years, I feel like I’m starting to get my son back.
It feels so,sofucking good. And you know what? I let him know that. I said the words out loud. What’s even better is that he returned the sentiment.
“Evan Barnabas Waters, stop listening to those darn voices in your head and get your booty out here… this instant!” Brooks coaxes from behind the door.
“First,” I grumble from the other side, “my middle nameisn’tBarnabas; it’s Wagner. Second, I’m not sure if I’m doing this right… like, at all.”
“Will you unlock the door then, so I can help you?”
I try to take a calming breath, and look at myself in the mirror, before reaching for the door. The super high-cut lacy, black-on-navybriefs hug me so tight, my cock is kind of uncomfortable. I spin to look at the back of them, noting that the crisscross, corset-style straps in the back are digginghardinto my skin. The matching top, a navy blue mesh with black lace detailing, is straining to the point of near-combustion. I feel like if I move at all, I’m going to hear a seam bust.
Look at you, you fucking freak. This shit doesn’t belong on aman. It’s sick. There’s a reason you’re fucking this up, you’re not supposed to wear this.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl at the voice in annoyance.
“I’m sorry, what?” Brooks says softly from behind the door. It sounds like he’s pressed right up against it. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
I whip open the door, and Brooks nearly falls in on me. I catch him in my arms. “I didn’t mean foryouto shut up, babe. You know the shitty thoughts are back. I can’t—I don’t fit in this, I don’t think…”
Brooks stands back and lets his eyes track over me. He bites the inside of his cheek and tries to quell a chuckle. Fucking hell, this does look ridiculous on me, doesn’t it?
The fact that he’s breaking out into a full-blown laugh isn’t helping any. He’s trying to reign it in, but he’s doing a piss poor job. I almost want to slink back into the bathroom and slam the door in his face.
“Evan, no!” he squeaks, trying to press himself in before I shut and lock myself back in his bathroom. “I pr-promise I’m not laughing atyou!” He can barely get the words out, while a tear streaks down his cheek.
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover myself back up. “You sure? Cuz it certainly seems like it from my end.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Brooks says, catching his breath, “but it’s not something you’re doing wrong. I must have messed upthe order, or it defaulted to my size or something, but this definitely doesnotfit you.”
