Page 19

Muir

"Oh, fuck, yeah," I moan, bouncing up and down on Fitz's meaty cock. "Feels so good."

"You look so sexy, bubba," he says from underneath me. The endearment shoots straight to my hole, and I grind my hips, riding his dick with even more gusto. "My, my, my," he pants. "Aren't you a little fuck-wagon?"

I glance down at him and grin. "I'm more of a fuck-SUV, thank you very much."

I dig my knees into the mattress and shift my body weight onto them, lifting so that my hole is only gripping the top half of Fitz's cock. And then I do something I've only ever practised a few times on my own—I clench and unclench my ring.

Fitz's eyes roll into the back of his head. "Oh, Jesus, holy fuck. What are you doing? That feels amazing."

I lower back down and take his fat cock all the way to the base, then slide my palms up his chest, kneading his pecs when I reach them. "I'm putting the power in power bottom."

"You sure fucking are."

When we woke up this morning, we were both horny as fuck and keen for another round because the four rounds we had last night just weren't enough.

Fitz's cock spears into my body, and I take it with ease, like his dick was made for me. This was the first position I ever tried when fucking myself with a dildo, and it's totally my favourite. It's not because I get to control the pace and depth and general speed of things—although that is a handy bonus—it's that for me, for my body, this position lets me get the most cock inside me.

Turns out, I'm not just a power bottom, I'm a hungry power bottom.

Good thing then that Fitz has got more than enough—size and stamina-wise—to fulfil my appetite.

"Wait," he rasps, and I come to a halt. He brings his hands to my hips and lifts them higher while staying in me. "Trust me, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

"Stay as still as you can."

"Okay."

Holding me hovering a few inches from his body, he starts jackhammering into me. I'm still on top, but he's doing all the work.

It's funny. All my life, I've suppressed myself. I felt like I had to hide who I was. But right now, here in this moment with Fitz, I feel more free, more myself, more safe, than I ever have.

I know that I can tell him anything, and he'll still love me, whether he agrees with me or not. I can come up with the craziest, most outlandish ideas, and he'll support me. And if I make a mistake, if I stumble and fall, he'll always have my back and help me to my feet again.

That's true love.

Because real love doesn't come with strings. It doesn't only exist when certain, specific conditions and criteria are met. Real love comes from a place deeper than that.

Speaking of deeper…

"Oh, fuck," I cry out as Fitz's cock drives into me, hitting places that have never been hit before. His cockhead pokes at my second ring, and fuck, that's a world of pleasure we haven't even begun to explore.

But I want to.

I want to spend the rest of my life with him, exploring each other's bodies, exploring the world, seeing, doing, experiencing everything we want to.

Which means I'm going to have to slip away and do something crazy. Something so unlike me that he'll never see it coming.

But I want to do it.

I want to surprise Fitz, sure. That's a very big part of it.

But I also want to do this for me.

To prove to myself that I can.

Because, goddammit, I am so ready to marry this man.

Again.

"I need a wingman, and you're it, whether you like it or not." Tilly drops her head onto her doggy bed and lets out an unimpressed huff. "Sorry, sorry. Wingwoman," I correct.

I suppose I could shoot the video at work, or at least have one of the guys help me out with it, but I want to do this on my own. I fiddle with the camera stand then squint into the camera, checking the lighting and backdrop to make sure it all looks good.

I've prepped videos a million times for Fitz, but I've never been the star of any of them.

Until today.

August 14.

It's a special day, exactly six months since Fitz and I got married. Apparently, since neither one of us can still recall anything from what happened inside that bloody Las Vegas pop-up chapel.

But even though we're blanking on the details, what's happened since then has been real. We've fallen in love, going from best friends to lovers to, well, I can't say husbands since technically we already are, but that's not going to stop me from filming a proposal anyway.

I want to marry Fitz, properly this time.

And I want to propose alone, and here, in front of the eucalyptus tree where Gramps got so excited when he found out we got married on the Goldie. It makes it even more special, like I'm not actually alone, and he's here with me in spirit.

If I'd had the chance, I would have shot this video earlier and spent a few days editing it to get it just right. There's a viral pet proposal challenge that's big on TikTok at the moment where you train your pet to 'deliver' the engagement ring, either by fetching it or presenting it in some creative way.

While I'm confident Tilly would have totally cooperated and done a stellar job, I haven't had a day off by myself in a week. On my last day off, I drove to the nearest jewellery store in Billabong Downs to pick out an engagement ring.

So a simple video will have to do. I have a feeling the only engagement metrics Fitz is going to be concerned about won't have anything to do with likes and shares, but with one simple word.

Yes.

At least I fucking hope so.

I give my hands a quick shake to settle my nerves, tap Record on the phone, and quickly dash into position for the video.

No silly dancing.

No lip syncs.

No special effects.

Just me. And a ring. Oh, and okay, I may have taken my shirt off, because if I'm going to push myself out of my comfort zone, why not go all the way?

I take a deep breath, run a hand through my hair, then start speaking.

"So––"

My voice cracks.

Fuck.

Okay, I'm definitely editing that out.

I begin again.

"So, hi everyone." I raise my hand and wave at the camera. "My name is Muir, and in a break from usual programming, I'm momentarily taking over Fitz's TikTok account. For those of you who may not know who I am, I'm the guy who shoots and edits a lot of Fitz's videos. You may have caught a brief glimpse of me during our trip to Brissie, but usually, I'm the guy behind the camera."

I clear my throat. "But not today. Because today, I have an important question I want to ask Fitz, my best friend since we were ten years old."

I pause.

I know I'm forgetting something else I wanted to say, something sappy, probably cringey, but for the life of me, I can't remember what it was.

Okay. Forget it.

I'm getting straight to the point.

Looking directly into the camera, I pull out the ring box and open it even though the camera is too far away to pick up any details. "Fitzgerald, first-middle-name redacted, second-middle-name-redacted, Eastridge, will you do me the honour of marrying me…properly?"

I hold still for a few seconds with a hopeful smile on my face, then sag with relief that it's over as I grab the phone and work on cropping the video to remove my wonky start and the extraneous end bit. I hope he liked that redacted names bit because I'm pretty sure he would've murdered me for sharing his middle names with the world. And you can't marry a corpse.

I've got backend access to Fitz's TikTok, but I've never used it to upload a video before. With shaky fingers, I click Post, and it's done. My proposal is out there in the world.

I wonder if he'll see it before he comes home.

It's just gone four, so he should be leaving the clinic anytime now, barring any last-minute emergency.

We've been in touch throughout the day via text. He was acting a little strange this morning, like he was possibly starting to come down with something, so I wanted to make sure he was okay. He's been assuring me he's fine. I really hope he's not getting sick, but it is flu season, so you never know.

I'm putting my shirt on when I hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, bubba."

I spin around. Fitz jumps down the couple of porch steps and strides over to me. He's smiling so I take it that's a sign he's not sick. But is he smiling because he's seen the proposal video or is he just smiling because he's home and happy to see me?

I honestly can't tell, but I'm leaning more towards the latter.

We hug and kiss and, damn, even after a day at work, he still smells good.

"Have a good day?" I ask.

"Yep. You?"

"Yeah, just chilled around the house."

"Nice."

Okay. I'm starting to think he hasn't seen the video yet. Surely he would have said something by now, right?

"Did anything exciting happen?" I ask, pressing, hopefully not too obviously, for an answer.

"No." He takes a big step back. "At least not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm actually really glad you're out here, by this tree. I know it was Sid's favourite, and this is exactly where I wanted to do it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been so nervous all day, and I was hoping the clinic would be quiet since Linus said I could leave if it was, but of course, it wasn't, so I wasn't able to get away early and do something."

"What? What are you talking about?"

He drops to his knee and pulls out a small box.

My heart races, and the world around us seems to blur. I barely hear his words over the pounding in my chest, but the way he looks up at me—with that blend of nervousness and certainty—says everything.

"I realise this is slightly unconventional since we're already legally married, but I wanted to do this anyway because I love you Muir Landers, with all my heart, with every fibre of my being. You're the man for me, the only man for me, and I would be honoured if you would be my husband? Properly and soberly this time." He opens the box and smiles. "I bought it when we were in Brissie. I hope you like it."

I peer into the box. The ring is simple but elegant, a smooth silver band with a subtle matte finish that catches the light. "It's perfect…but wait, Brisbane?"

He got the ring in Brisbane? We were there over a month ago.

"When you know you know," he says with a smile as he looks up at me. "And I fucking knew. So…what do you say?"

I lift a finger, and he frowns. "Uh, Muir? What's going on?"

"Don't worry. It's nothing bad," I assure him as I pull my phone out and join him on the grass.

"Are you going to text me your response?"

"No." I smile. "When was the last time you opened TikTok?"

"At lunchtime. Why?"

"Ah. So you haven't seen it."

His frown deepens. "Seen what?"

"This."

I hand him the phone and study his face as he watches my video.

When it finishes playing, he looks up and locks eyes with me. "This is my TikTok account."

I smile proudly. "It is."

"As in, it's live on my TikTok."

"Yep."

"You posted a video of yourself on my TikTok?" It's cute that it comes out as a question. He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you did that. It's incredible."

"Guess all your years of nagging finally worked."

He cups my cheek in his palm. "Why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted to. Today's a special day for us."

"So you remembered?"

"Of course I did. What sort of best friend slash husband slash potential fiancé would I be if I didn't remember the anniversary of our blackout wedding?"

He chuckles. "And why did you do it so publicly?"

"Again, because I wanted to, but also…"

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to see if I could. Love is a risk. You need to be brave. Things have gone pretty smoothly for us so far, but that's no guarantee. The reality is, we are going to have obstacles and challenges and even fights. I want you to know I'm not going to cower in those hard moments. And I think doing something like this is my way of showing you that I'll step up when the going gets tough."

"I already knew that, bubba. You're one of the strongest people I know. Not many men can take the type of dicking I give you and get up afterwards, much less walk."

I laugh. "That's true."

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this moment, but as we kneel under Gramps's favourite tree with the sun starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in an ethereal glow, I suggest, "Let's give our answers on the count of three."

Fitz nods. "Okay."

"One—"

"Yes!"

"Hey, you didn't wait."

"I've waited twenty years."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

"Whatever isn't yes."

"You want a yes from me?"

"I sure do."

"Take me inside and fuck my brains out, and then I'll give you your yes."

He jumps to his feet, yanks me up, and we make a mad dash indoors.

I give Fitz his yes.

Over and over and over again.