The Truth About Beam

The Truth Untold

Beam tells Forth they should pretend their night together never happened. The truth is that he'll never forget it. In the secret depths of his heart, Beam knows he'll carry the memory of them entwined on that narrow bed until his dying day.

The heat of Forth's mouth on his. The lean strength of Forth's body moving over and inside him. His own voice begging, "Again. Oh god, Forth, take me again." The broken, ecstatic sound of Forth crying out his name.

~

Beam tells Forth that he's disgusted with himself. The truth is that he's terrified to realize he never knew himself at all.

He knew the Beam who liked women, who delighted in their soft curves and sweet lips. He never suspected the existence of a Beam whose every nerve ending would fucking ignite at the touch of another man's hands. A secret Beam who'd lived inside him all along, saving his most exquisite pleasure for Forth alone.

~

Beam tells Forth he doesn't want to be his wifey. The truth is that he only hates that stupid word.

He doesn't feel like a woman in Forth's embrace—he feels aggressively masculine, all cock and balls and testosterone, rutting and grappling with Forth like two lions fighting for mating rights. Beam gives as fiercely as he gets, meeting every thrust, holding Forth prisoner in the cage of his strong arms and powerful thighs. He incites Forth with filthy moans and obscenities, urging Forth to serve him and use him hard until they're both trembling at the very limit of their endurance.

Beam isn't going to be Forth's goddamn wifey, he's going to be Forth's man. And Forth is going to be his.

~

Beam tells Forth that he's just shy. The truth is that he's not ready to share Forth with anyone else. Not their nosy friends, not an entire class of smirking freshies—god, he'll never live that down—and certainly not their families.

Forth is Beam's newly discovered country and he's only just begun to map it. He doesn't owe anyone else a travelogue with innocent selfies of them hand in hand for those boylove-obsessed girls to squeal over, a sweetly smitten Forth getting heart-eyed over Beam's dimpled smiles. Do they think Forth's love is a sunlit place? A place safe for tourists? Forth's love is a motorcycle speeding recklessly down a midnight highway. It's not sweet. It's not Be Mine in flowing script on a lace-trimmed valentine, it's "Mine—you're mine, god damn you, mine— " gasped in the dark to the accompaniment of animal grunts and flesh slapping against flesh.

Forth's love is two bodies writhing on a mattress, claiming each other till they bleed.

And sometimes, oh sometimes—after all the passionate violence is done, after their racing hearts calm and their ragged breathing slows—sometimes Forth's love is a soft kiss pressed to Beam's bruised mouth and a whispered "I love you" in the dark.

But Beam isn't about to share that with anyone else either. It belongs only to him.

So does Forth.