Page 82 of Forgotten
Ford grabs my hand one evening and asks “We’ve had sex before, right? All the way?”
I don’t know if he’s joking or not. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt and his brace is off, the last proof of the accident gone with it. His naked arms are devastating. My mouth must be hanging open, because Ford comes closer and presses his body to mine. There’s no mistaking the hardness pushing into my side and I cough, unsure.
“Ash?” He looks at me expectantly and it’s as if the universe had known exactly what eye colour would make him most powerful. He was given the most exquisite shade of mahogany, so dark they seem black every time Ford gets lost in his mind. Yet, a brown so delicate and sweet, I feel the sugar rush only staring back at him.
“I remembered something new,” he says.
It happens more and more, these days. Ford just calls me from the other room and tells me about a random piece of our life before. Then he leaves, like a tornado that’s finished shaking everything up.
“I was listening to the radio and that song from Miley Cyrus came up.” His voice is comfortable, confident even. “I remember you singing it. And I remember singing with you. I remember getting you flowers.” The last part is barely a whisper.
“What’s that to do with sex?” I whisper stupidly.
Ford snakes his arms around me, his hands resting lightly around my waist. He smells like soap and laundry and I adore him. I love him. “Nothing.” His lips areattached to my throat and when he bites down, I let out a visceral grunt. I feel Ford’s grin, then. “I just… your face, in this flashback. You looked so handsome. Right now, you look so handsome. And I thought, I wondered, whatdoes your handsome face look like when you’re fuckingme?”
Goosebumps form on my skin and I hold onto Ford for dear life. My head drops to rest on top of his shoulder. “Fuck,” I breathe.
“But then I thought, I don’t remember if you’re fucking me. Or if I’m fucking you. Or both?” Ford rolls his hips into mine gently. “I forgot. Will you remind me about us? Please.”
And of course I will. Because I’m nothing if not a good scholar.
???
On Friday I have to go to university for a meeting and I hate that I have to leave Ford and Winnie. Both seem uncertain and scared of being left alone, but if Ford is sure about moving forward with the adoption, I have to know that I can trust him. My heart breaks when I close the main door behind me and I lean into it for just a second, listening to the voices inside.
“We’re gonna have fun, peanut,” Ford is telling Winnie and she’s giggling. I’m already cast aside. Good. I force myself off the door and I start walking.
After the meeting some of the professors are going for drinks and as much as I want to go back home, I agree to join them. I check my phone for messages but I findnothing from Ford. Okay then. I tell myself to relax. Everything is fine. I allow myself to have a good time with my colleagues and I tell them about the progress of my doctorate, about the inspiration that strikes at very random times.
When I finally get back home it’s late and both Ford and Winnie are asleep. I check on Winnie on the second floor and then, I check on Ford on the first floor. Both are laying on their side, hands tucked under their pillows. Both look adorable and innocent and mine. Allmine.
I move as quietly as I can but as I’m sliding into bed, Ford stirs.
“Hey. You’re back.” He rolls closer, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
“I am. Go back to sleep.”
Ford shakes his head in a silent ‘no’ as he guides me onto my side. His chest presses against my back and I can feel every defined muscle.
With tottering hands, he caresses down my spine and then Ford leans into me, his lips attached to my neck. The hair sprinkled on his chest tickles me and I’m a mess already. Hard and squirmy and hopelessly in love with Ashford Hale, my childhood best friend.
“Ford, I…”
His hand grasps my chin and he turns my head to face him, his mouth capturing mine in a deep, agonising kiss. Instinctively I push my hips into his groin and Ford crushes me in a tight embrace. His right arm is weaker still, but Ford’s resolve is stronger. “Can I please fuckyou?” he growls in my ear and then moves away, waiting politely for my consent.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. “You don’t need to ask. I’m yours,” I tell him and to make things clear, I rub myself against him.
His erection brushes the curve of my arse and I’m sure being a bottom for Ford is my calling in life. The thought almost sends me over the edge and we haven’t even started this.
“Let me see you,” I urge, but Ford shakes his head and holds me still, hooking one of his legs on top ofmine.
Bringing my hands to his thick thigh, I twist my upper body and then I search for his eyes. Ford licks his lips in anticipation and then he tugs at my pyjama shirtshyly.
We get undressed hurriedly and then, finally, we’re both naked. Panting. Ford’s fingers are coated with lube and he’s pushing inside of me methodically, painstakingly slow.
“Yes. Keep going,” I encourage him, arching my back and tilting my pelvis forward. I raise one leg in the air and Ford’s fist closes around my cock enthusiastically. Maybe a little too enthusiastically.
God, no.
