Calvin Sumner-Gibson
Dres. Dresden Gibson. Dresden Sumner-Gibson. Mine. Completely mine.
We walk down the aisle back towards the wedding hall, under the slew of flower petals being tossed by our guests. Dres is leading, or maybe I'm lagging, staring at his back, at his broad shoulders and his tapered hair cut. The top of his hair has been parted and swept off his face. The most handsome man I've ever seen. I knew it the moment I saw him, all those years ago. And even more beautiful now, with everything I know about him, with everything I love about him.
We pass the last row of guests, but Dres doesn't stop, leading the way into the wedding hall. The ceremony and reception are outside, so it's empty inside. I've got Dres's hand and I pull him towards the first door I see. It's a small sitting room, with two armchairs and no windows. Great.
Dres is grinning as he says my name. My full name. "Calvin Sumner-Gibson."
I reach up, pulling his face down to mine, kissing him open-mouthed, all air. Dres groans, turning his face away. "We shouldn't," he says.
"I just need a minute," I say quickly, frantic. My hearts racing and I feel. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I can't think straight. "I just—."
I push him towards the chair and he falls into it, laughing. First, because he thinks this is something else than what it is, but then he gets a look at me and his expression changes, confused. I climb into his lap and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him.
"Oh," Dres says . "I thought."
"I know what you thought," I say, turning my face into his neck and breathing deeply. Dres tightens his arms around me and we stay like that, cradling each other for a few quiet minutes.
"That was the most intense thing," I say finally as my heart catches up with this moment. I feel better. Grounded. Being with him, apart from everyone else, is helping.
"I know," he says just as softly.
"I feel like after everything we've been through, like, I don't know. But somehow that was probably the most nervous and excited I've ever been at once? And I always thought that feeling would be reserved for the first time we fucked."
"So our wedding beats our first time, is what you're saying? Our wedding beats sex."
"Alright, don't be smug. I'm saying the feeling was more intense, yes," I respond with a roll of my eyes.
Dres leans back, cupping my face. He kisses one of my cheeks as he says, "Sumner," and then the other as he says, "Gibson."
"The hyphen's doing it for ya, huh," I tease. "I think someone's got a little bit of an ownership kink."
He tries not to smile but he can't help it. The hyphen is doing it. How fifty shades of him. There's a knock at the door, and I startle. Dres doesn't but he turns his head in the direction of the sound like he has x-ray vision. Or laser vision. He's giving the door the most lethal of looks.
"You both better be decent," comes Amelia's voice before she throws the door open.
"Shouldn't you have waited for us to say we are decent?" Dres asks.
Amelia looks at us quizzically. "What are you two doing? Is this part of the mating ritual?"
"I see comedy runs in the family," I say sliding out of Dres's lap. He sits up, giving Amelia a look that is all parts withering.
She throws her hands up. "Don't make that face. It may be your wedding day but you have responsibilities. The both of you do. So save it for the honey moon."
"Are they in there?" someone says behind Amelia and then Jack pushes past her to walk through the doorway. He looks from Dres, to me, and then back again. His expression is giving dad in the worst way.
"You guys literally can't wait twelve hours?"
I huff. "I'll have you know we're going to have to wait like twenty-four hours because we have a flight tonight."
That reality hits me hard. We're not going to have quality alone time until we get to London tomorrow, and even then we'll have to wait until we get to our hotel. Someone (Dres) did not think this through.
"We weren't doing anything," Dres says pointedly.
"Yeah right," Amelia says suspiciously.
"Your photographer is looking for you," Jack says next. "They need solos and then they want family photos and the sitter is coming to get the kids soon."
"What are you all doing?" Dolores calls as she walks in, brushing past Jack and Amelia. She stays at attention with her hands on her hips, eyes darting between Dres and me. "Do I even want to know?" Her gaze settles on Dres and I stifle a laugh.
"We weren't doing anything," he says again with emphasis this time.
"Right. Recall I have access to the cameras at Weston's and I'm well aware of yous twos' penchant for inappropriate time and place," she responds.
I gasp. "What?" I turn to look at Dres for confirmation and he shrugs his shoulders. "Oh my. You couldn't have told me that?"
"There aren't any cameras in the break room," he says. "Or the kitchen."
"The kitchen?" Amelia exclaims. "I'm never eating at Weston's again."
Jack makes a face. "Did I tell you about the sauna? Because I think I win."
"What about the sauna?" my mom asks as she joins us in what is now becoming entirely too small of a room with an entirely too inappropriate of a conversation for her.
"Nothing," I say quickly. There are some things mothers just don't need to know. Except Dres's mother. She can know everything and clearly does, has seemingly had an eyeful. "It's time for photos, right? We should go do that."
I hold my hands out to Dres, helping him out of the chair. He presses his hand to the small of my back as we follow everyone out of the room back into the entryway before stepping outside.
"So what's everyone else doing?" I ask.
"It's the cocktail hour," my mom answers. "They're getting drunk."
"Jealous," Amelia remarks from behind us as our photographers walk over.
"Can I steal the grooms for photos?"
"And I'll take the rest of the wedding party for your photos."
"Steal away," I say following Dres and one of the photographers away from the reception tent where everyone's gathered.
We're led down a cobbled path towards a decorated gazebo. It looks like something out of a fairytale with gauzy white ribbons and lots of cream-colored flowers. Their green stalks and leaves are a sharp contrast.
I can hear the camera shutter as we're walking and try not to let it affect my gait but it's starting to feel like I'm walking funny, too conscious of being photographed. Dres takes my hand, lacing our fingers.
Without looking at me he says, "Don't be nervous. They're just photos."
"Yeah, photos we're going to show our kids and that everyone's going to want to look at."
"Don't be nervous," he repeats, squeezing my hand.
We step into the gazebo and our photographer, Nina, directs us. We're back to back at first and then I'm instructed to turn, tapping on Dres's shoulder to get his attention. We're mimicking a first look, I think, but since I've already seen Dres, and married him, this is kind of difficult to fake.
And then I think I don't really want my wedding photos to be so staged. It's not us. So I scrap the idea and fling myself onto Dres's back. He is so unsuspecting we nearly go down and he has to throw an arm out, bracing on the banister of the gazebo.
"Cas," he exclaims, sounding winded. I can't respond, too busy laughing. "You're supposed to be taking this seriously."
"These are actually lovely," Nina calls to us.
"See, they're lovely," I say and then drop my head, kissing the side of Dres's neck. I bite it next and he groans, losing his balance so we both hit the ground. "Oh man," I say between the pain and laughter. "I thought you could handle that."
"Maybe when I was younger," Dres says holding his side.
"Shut up, you're not even old," I respond with a roll of my eyes. "Since I've got you down here, can you please tell me what you were thinking when you gave us no grace period between the wedding and the flight tonight?"
"How did I know you were going to harp on that?"
"When am I getting my wedding sex, Dres?"
"Oh my god, Cas, the photographer is right there. I am so sorry."
"Heard it all, seen it all," she says. "I can make these photos work, too, if one of you wants to move closer to the other."
Dres shifts onto his side beside me, propping himself up on an elbow so he can hover over me. "You get it tomorrow," he says reaching for my chin so he can tilt my face up. It's my favorite gesture of his. "Delayed gratification."
I'm ready to make a remark about how I've never been a delayed gratification kind of guy but Dres cuts me off, leaning down to kiss me. It's chaste, for the photo's sake I think, but I sneak some tongue in there because I can't not.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he murmurs against my lips.
"I am who I am, Mr. Sumner-Gibson," I mumble back and he grins.
Dres gets up and helps me to my feet. "Can you get through the rest of these photos without being inappropriate?" he asks.
"That's very rude. Of course I can," I respond but honestly I'm not so sure.
Does Dres look even more devastating now that he's wearing a ring and my last name? Absolutely he does.
I need a place to channel all of my emotions, need the intimacy to solidify everything I feel so I can carry it better. Being with Dres is always good, but that's only part of the reason I want it. When we're together, that close, I feel like I have a place to put all my feelings. I get full on how much I love him and I can empty some of it into sex so it's not so heavy.
I didn't understand that for the longest. And maybe I still don't, not fully anyway. I just know that I can breathe easier afterwards. I can look at him without feeling like I'm going to crumble under everything I'm feeling. Sex has never been just sex with him.
Dresden Sumner-Gibson
After the photos, our family returns to the reception. Cas and I make the couple's entrance and everyone stands at their designated table to applaud us as we move towards our table at the center of the room. Once we're there, we sit down and the rest follow us except for our mothers.
"Thank you all for joining us on this momentous day," Dolores says. "We are so grateful to have you here to celebrate with us, especially after a long and devastating year. We understand the risk of being here and appreciate all of you for taking precaution."
"We ask that you join us in toasting the newlyweds," Olivia says next holding up a champagne flute. "To Dres and Cas."
Our guests hold up their glasses and repeat it back before drinking. Cas takes a sip from his glass but I'm parched and drink nearly the whole thing.
"Whoa there big guy," he says giving me a concerned look. "Two seconds into marriage and I'm already pushing you to alcoholism?"
"There's a lot of attention on us," I say. The fluttery feeling in my chest is definitely a symptom of that.
"Ugh, I know, it's almost like it's our wedding day or something," Cas says cheekily.
"Not funny," I say flatly.
"Did you eat today? I feel like you're getting hangry. Look the food's coming. Here, have some water." Cas pushes a glass my way and I take it. "I'm gonna see my grandparents," he says standing. "Don't be drunk when I get back."
"That's your thing," I say as he goes.
I'm nursing my glass of water, the feeling in my chest starting to ease when Dolores leans down over my shoulder and goes, "Do you feel any different?"
"Not really," I tell her. "Should I?"
She slides into the open chair beside me. It's Jack's spot. He's over by the bar with Jasmine. Their sitter was waiting for them after we finished family photos, so Atlas and Theo are gone, leaving Jack free to get "sloshed" as he put it.
Dolores goes, "Honestly, I don't think so. I think you married that boy the moment you laid eyes on him."
I choke on the water I was sipping, wiping my mouth before I say, "Excuse me?"
She laughs. "Can't tell if you think old age has soiled my memory or that I'm not sharp enough to notice things."
"No, I'm thinking what are you even talking about?"
Dolores's expression is knowing. "Five minutes into Cas working at Weston's and you were trying to feed him all the time."
I flush. "I was not."
"Maybe you're the one with the bad memory," she says. "Because every morning like clockwork you stood outside my office, asking me do you think he ate breakfast? And I'd be like did who eat breakfast? Cas you'd say all exasperated like I was just supposed to know. Every morning."
Now I'm really flushing. I honestly had forgotten about it. "He had those early practices. There was no way he was eating breakfast."
"You should've known right then how you felt. You always try to feed the people you love. I don't know, Amelia, is that a love language?"
Amelia looks up from her phone. "Is what a love language?"
"Feeding people," Dolores says the same time I say, "It's not."
Amelia laughs. "Mm, I think it falls under acts of service. Why are we talking about Dres's love language?"
I huff. It's not my love language. I don't have a love language. Love languages aren't even a real thing. And I definitely don't try to feed everyone and if it wasn't for me, Cas would be skin and bones because he can't even cook.
"There was one morning where you made Cas breakfast. You left me at the counter so you could feed him. You really think I wasn't wise to you's two's antics?"
Okay, so maybe I was feeding Cas as a way to express myself a little.
"Ooh, a trip down memory lane, I love it," Amelia goes. "Tell me more."
I grimace. "Or we could not."
"Cas used to walk around all starry eyed for you, Dres. It was adorable," Dolores says next.
"What about Cas?" Cas asks as he walks up, slipping back into his seat beside me. I drop my hand onto his knee and squeeze it.
"We're reminiscing," I say turning my head towards him as I add, "Apparently you walked around starry eyed for me."
"I did nothing of the sort," Cas exclaims, slapping my hand as I laugh.
His mom is seated beside him and turns away from Charles to say, "You most certainly did. Every single dinner. Dres did this. Dres did that. Did you know Dres can carry two trays at once? Did you know Dres has a tattoo of Morissey?"
I squeeze his knee again, raising an eyebrow at him as his face goes red. "Mom," he says. "There's some things that should be taken to the grave."
"No, please tell me more," I say.
Cas elbows me. "Okay, yeah so I was carrying a torch. Sue me."
Dolores interjects with, "You both carried torches. Cas's was just more obvious. I remember the day you two had your first date. Dres was so nervous."
"What," he exclaims. "You were?"
I refrain from responding. How am I being embarrassed about something that happened seven years ago?
Dolores is on a roll with the story telling. I've actually greatly underestimated her memory. "I walked in on you two dancing. It was adorable."
"Uhm, yeah, and you totally ruined our first kiss," Cas says.
I make a face. "She didn't walk in on our first kiss."
"Yeah but the potential was there. You were definitely going to kiss me. And then you got stage fright."
"I did not get stage fright."
"I can recall Cas here thinking that night was a one and done," his mom says. "He came home so moody. Oh the angst was oozing out of your pores."
"Alright, mom, chill," Cas says.
"Oh, I fully remember," I say, biting back a grin. Cas had been so sassy the following day. He'd quit. All because I'd gotten in my head and couldn't kiss him. It's crazy to think about how nervous I'd been to make that move.
"And now look at us," he says his voice low.
"Who would've thought it?" I say and Cas beams at me. He loves when I can make a reference from this day and age.
We're interrupted as the servers dole out the first course, slipping platters of warm pita, various hummus's and veggies onto the table. Cucumber, tomato, and feta salads follow the platters. The dinner menu has a heavy middle eastern nod, all thanks to Cas, who wastes no time digging in. There's spoons in the hummus to serve onto your own plate, but Cas has slid one of them in between us and is taking hefty scoops, alternating with pita and red pepper slices.
"Oh yeah buddy," he says catching my eye as he licks hummus off his thumb. "This is what you signed up for. Table manners be gone."
I roll my eyes. "You never had table manners."
"Hey, that's rude. I have excellent table manners."
"You eat like you've been starved your whole life."
"Maybe I was starved. In another life."
"Please don't start with the multiverse."
"It's real!"
"Fine, fine, it's real. I can't have this argument again."
"I know you're just agreeing with me to agree with me," he says moving on from the hummus to the salad. "But a win is a win."
I glance around our table and it seems like everyone's distracted enough that I can give Cas his wedding gift without all eyes on us. Cas is fully engrossed in his salad, humming as he eats. It hadn't even been a question on the dinner menu. I knew this would please him.
I reach into my suit jacket, removing the envelop from the breast pocket and hold it over Cas's plate, blocking him from dipping his fork back into the salad.
"Oh no," he says, shooting me a look. "Here we freaking go. What is it now? A timeshare in Bermuda?"
I don't say anything, waving the envelope so he'll take it. He does but not without saying, "Why do you always gotta do things..."
"It's your wedding gift. It's customary."
"You're my wedding gift," he retorts and I want to say he's joking but I'm fairly certain he's not. Maybe I should've booked our flights for tomorrow morning and gotten us a hotel tonight.
Cas opens the envelope and pulls the photo inside out. It's a polaroid of a very pregnant Australian Shepherd named Hope. I watch Cas's expression, the turn of his eyebrows telling me he's confused. He turns the photo around, checking the back for any hints before he looks at me.
"We're adopting a senior dog?" he asks.
"I don't think Hope would appreciate you calling her a senior dog. She's still in her litter-bearing years. In fact, Hope's days away from giving birth to Delta and Charlie's new sibling."
I expect excitement from Cas so naturally that's not what I get. His eyebrows go up and come together, making it look like he's about to cry. His voice cracks when he says, "You got me a puppy?"
I frown. "Wait — you're not supposed to cry."
"Dres, you got me a puppy," he repeats and it's loud enough that we're no longer having a private conversation.
Olivia leans over so she can look at us both, and says, "You got a puppy?"
Cas brushes his thumb under his eye and nods, holding the photo out to his mom. "She's giving birth to my puppy."
"Now that's a wonderful gift," she says. "You've always wanted a dog."
Cas shifts, pressing his shoulder against mine. I press back.
He goes, "This is perfect. But I'm going to top it."
I roll my eyes. "You don't have to top it."
"Sure I do," he says quickly. "I'm not starting this marriage letting you think you're more romantic than me."
I turn to look at him, then lean down biting his shoulder through his jacket. "Hate to break it to you, babe, but I am."
Calvin Sumner-Gibson
Dres thinks he's more romantic than me? Bull crap. I'll show him more romantic.
My wedding gift is scheduled before the cake and our first dance, just after dinner and speeches. It seems that everyone in the wedding party wants to say something. Jack, Amelia, my mom, Dolores, Amelia again (she's a bit drunk now.)
When it's finally time, I move to drag Dres away. "Come on," I say into his ear, pulling him out of the crowd.
"Where to?" he asks.
"I know you know it's a surprise," I chide, tugging him up the path back into the wedding hall. I'd quartered a room earlier and let the artists set up beforehand.
When I get to our door, I hold Dres in place outside it for a moment, staring at his curious expression, which quickly turns dubious.
"Is sex my gift?" he asks.
A hard laugh bursts out of me and I flush at the thought. "Sex would be my gift."
Dres grabs both my lapels and pulls me into him, brushing his jaw across my cheek so he can whisper in my ear, "Fucking you is always a gift, Cas."
A shiver rolls down my spine and I'll be damned if I don't press up against Dres so I can feel the hardness between his legs. I run my hand across his stomach, love-softened abs, starting a path down towards his belt when Dres grips my hand. "You're getting ahead of yourself."
"Always," I respond with a little roll of my eyes. "You know, it's always getting ahead and never getting head."
I feel Dres's chest shake with his laughter. "Is that what you want?"
"It's what I always want but we don't have time for that," I say with a huff. "I need to behave. And give you your gift. Come on."
I push Dres away, giving me enough space to turn the door handle and usher him inside. He takes up the doorway and I have to peak around him to see the two tables set up in the center of the room. They look like massage tables and there are ring lights facing them.
"What is this?" Dres asks glancing at me over his shoulder.
The two artists are hovering to the side, unpacking their kits. They're already wearing their gloves and masks. I had okay'd the sketch and now it was a matter of getting Dres on board.
"Well this is Helena and Rose. I believe you know them actually."'
He looks confused. "Yes but—."
"Uh huh?"
"Are you?"
"And you."
"Us both?"
"Matching, Dres," I say with a nod, pushing him towards the table.
"Matching tattoos?"
"Yes, babe, yes matching tattoos. Aren't you going to ask me the burning question?"
"The burning question?" he repeats, clearly still a little shocked.
I refrain from laughing. "Well given that you are already a walking mural..."
He gets it. "Where are we putting these?"
Leave it to me that I finally get Dres's pants off but I can't even touch him. For the last thirty minutes we've been face down on these tables while Helena and Rose work in tandem on their respective asscheek.
I say into the massage table, my voice muffled, "The idea, you know, came to me when I realized there was only one place left you hadn't tattooed."
"So what exactly are we getting?"
"Well I'm obviously branding you. With my Calvin seal."
"Cas."
"You'll see."
"Cas."
"What does it matter if I tell you now! We're too far gone."
Dres groans. "Is it a penis? Is it your penis?"
I try not to shake with my laughter. "Damn, that's actually a good idea. Is it too late to switch designs?"
Helena says in her gritty voice, "Since we're done, I'd say yes."
Rose helps me off the table and I do a slightly undignified waddle over to the full length mirror, holding my toga-towel in place. I'm staring at my reflection when Dres comes up beside me. He angles himself to look at his left asscheek, which lines our tattoos up since mine's on my right.
Considering it's my first tattoo and we were short for time, I didn't want anything huge. We both have the same outline of a lightsaber, modestly sized with fine line-work. Dres's is green and mine is blue. They're angled so if we pressed out hips together they'd touch at the tips.
Dres doesn't say anything at first. I give him exactly one minute to react before I panic. "If you hate it I will pay for laser. Or a cover-up piece. I bet Rose can turn this into someone's face or something."
Dres, still not having reacted at all, turns away from the mirror. "Can we have the room for a moment? There's an open bar. Feel free to help yourselves."
Rose chuckles. "Open bar? Say less."
Helena winks at me as she goes. It's a wink that says nicely done but by the way Dres has yet to respond I'm not so sure.
"Look, I know it's not really your tattoo style but—." I'm halted as he turns back to me and steps into my space. There's nothing but these half-assed makeshift toga's between us and that is simply not enough. "I thought," I try again as he puts his hand on my stomach and pushes me back. "I thought it was sentimental," I somehow manage to get out as he presses me against the wall between the mirror and a vanity.
I swallow, my throat unreasonably dry now. "Sentimental," I repeat even though Dres has completely stopped listening to me. He's dipped his head into the collar of my shirt and he clamps his teeth on my skin when I say, "Without being too—."
He jerks his head away suddenly, snapping, "Be quiet" as he kisses me, knocking my head back against the wall. It's an open-mouthed kiss, an anywhere-but-here kiss, hot and slow, lots of tongue, too much tongue for where we are with the little time we have. And honestly with what we're wearing or rather what we aren't. I can feel the cross-breeze on my dick as it opens my toga like a curtain.
I am nothing if not a person who needs some verbal confirmation, though. So I start to pull back but Dres beats me to it, tilting his chin so our heads are pushed together but our mouths are not. "I love it, Cas. I love it. It's perfect. Thank you. It's perfect."
He's out of breath, panting as he speaks.
That thing in my throat, that's been there all day, pulsates. It's a sharp twinge that shoots right up to my eyes. Everything about this day feels too tender to live through, like just by being here we are tearing holes in reality.
"I love you very much a lot," I whisper closing my eyes in an attempt to soak my tears back up.
"Very much a lot?"
"Too much. Like an uncontainable amount. Where does it go? Where can I put it out?"
He takes my hands, brings them to his face so I can feel the dampness on his cheeks. "Put it in me, Cas. Always, okay?"
I nod, pulling him in, kissing him quick. "Always."