AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sharing…yeah. Sharing space and breath and touches like they mean something because they do, they mean so much and it could be more. It could be need and desire and sweat and sex and intimacy like I’ve never had before and it’s all right in front of me if I just take the time to hold onto it.
“Yes.”
In the end, it was that easy. Ambrose didn’t have to overthink it. “Just like that?” There was a twist to Barrett’s lips, playful. Hopeful. “Even if it requires both of us to be patient. I don’t dive in and as much as I like you, it’s been a long damn time.”
“Tell me about it sometime. When you’re ready.”
Barrett nodded. “When I’m ready. And when you’re ready to hear it.”
Deep breath pulled into his lungs, Ambrose stepped back, away from the protective circle of his friend’s arms. Back into his own space, even while his brain felt too full for anything more. “So no labels, just….friends.”
“Not just.” That smirk grew and Ambrose found it adorable. “You kiss all your friends?”
That got a laugh, surprised and delighted at the same time. Something in Ambrose’s chest lifted, lightened. “Never. Except you.”
Dinner wasn’t awkward like Barrett thought it would be. There was a moment, seconds long and split between the first cut of a truly professional looking chicken pot pie and the placement of that piece on his plate, where Barrett thought Ambrose might back out. And that was okay. He’d be disappointed for sure, but he was asking a lot. Mostly he was asking for forbearance. A little forgiveness. A lot of patience. The thoughts and doubt that clogged his mind rose, twirling like the steam off his plate. But he knew this was the correct path forward.
The kicker was what he couldn’t tell Ambrose right now but really wanted to. It was some kind of gnawing, gnashing maw inside him. Culturally, people like him didn’t “make sense” to a lot of queer folk. Hells, he was already on the outside, a gay man who looked like he belonged in a commercial for deodorant aggressively marketed atmanly men. There were quite a few gay men who thought Barrett bottomed andonlybottomed. He’d been told more than a few times he had an ass anyone would like to plough (which wasn’t the compliment most thought it was).
Then you had people like Oz, who figured Barrett would be a good fuck (accurate) and would want more. They never expected him to enjoy the sex and the cuddle, and then be just fine left alone. Or appear to be fine with it.
And then there was the real him. A gay forest ranger who was a good cook, a guy with a high sex drive, and someone who was a brother, an uncle, a friend, a lover, a good neighbor, but someone who had never been in love.
Barrett loved love. He loved the whole concept of being swept off your feet, falling madly in love (or lust) at the first pass of a hand, trembling under the fragile potential of a first kiss. He was a massive sap and proudly bore that badge, but he’d never been more than a step or two further out. Val said he was a relationship sprinter: a burst of speed, and then done. Over. No family holidays, no moving in together, certainly no long term commitments because quite simply, he didn’t feel it. That squishy, gooey, molten caramel core of love and devotion and thinking of the future and wanting to…hell, sample wedding cakes or some shit like that.
Barrett wanted at least some of that. The thought of not being alone the rest of his life sounded pretty great. But getting there seemed like a chore, too white picket fence and cutesy for his liking. He knew, realistically, he could define love however he wished. And thinking back on his relationships, he knew he probably had come the closest with Marcos. But they’d been fresh out of college and still riding the high of first big jobs after school. Long hours tore them apart and they could never quite fit back together after that. And now, a decade and a half later, Barrett was still waiting to be swept off his feet.
Ambrose had changed a lot of that. And the worst thing was, he’d given Barrett hope. He didn’t know whether to cradle it close, or let it drop and dash against the rocks of his cynicism. But he knew everything in him screamed for more. More touching, more soft words, more kindness. He wanted to be smothered with it, safe and warm and sure that nothing bad could find its way through.
But now as they sat in Ambrose’s loft, each two tequilas in and feeling pleasantly warm (at least that’s how Barrett was feeling), he felt that flare of hope again. Bird wings against his heart. “I had a question but I didn’t want to impose,” Barrett said as he leaned back in his chair.
“No imposition.” Ambrose’s smile was small but genuine. Did he ever not look good? He was a little rumpled, his hair thick and wavy and gorgeous in the flickering light. Two thin, long fingers were curling around a lock of it. The sight made Barrett’s teeth itch.
“You’re really good on the guitar. I was hoping you might show me a few things.” He held up his own broad, rough hands. “I’ve got some chords I haven’t quite gotten yet.”
Ambrose leaned forward quickly, tequila sloshing in his glass as he smiled. A big, open smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’d love to show you.”
“You sure? I know it’s - “
“It’s not. An imposition or a lot to ask or whatever other idiom you were about to use.” Ambrose wasteasing him. The stark truth of it slapped him in the face. The man continued to surprise and delight him and Barrett wondered what else was buried under freckled skin and auburn hair and clothes at least a size too big on his lanky frame.
The image of Ambrose dressed like he’d been in that picture with Raf flashed before his eyes and Barrett had to bite back a groan. “Okay, yeah, great,” he finally managed after clearing his throat and giving himself a little shake.
“But I get to do something for you.”
Oh. Interesting. There was a gleam in Ambrose’s gray eyes and he wondered where this was going to lead. “That’s not me returning a favor, Ambrose. That’s me getting twice the kindness.”
“And? I want to offer, at least, before you turn me down.”
“Okay but…”
“Let me fix your hair. And your beard.”
“Wait. What?”
Ambrose laughed and Barrett liked the sound instantly. It was a pleased little noise and the happy consequence of it was an expression of delight on Ambrose’s gorgeous face. “I know you’re out in the wind and cold and rain and whatnot day in and out. But…” He watched Ambrose’s hands tense on the armrests. “Self care shouldn’t go out the window. I’ve seen you scratching at your beard.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever had anyone offer that,” he replied, catching himself only after he’d dug his fingers into his beard. The knowing little smirk on Ambrose’s face made his self-consciousness worth it. “Is this you telling me I look like I climbed down from the mountains?”
