Page 172 of Crocodile Tears
“Stop it,” Alexander ordered.
“I can’t. It’s in my head. It’s always the same dream… nightmare… memory… I don’t know what to call it, but I can’t sleep. I need… I need…”
“This.” Alexander leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips.
Josiah hung there, in surprise. He was acutely aware of the indie’s hard body pressed up against his own, and the softness of his lips… and then he was lost.
An old, half-remembered instinct stirred in his belly, then uncoiled, roaring back to life with a vengeance.
He grabbed Alexander’s hips and pulled him close, returning the kiss ferociously, forcing his lips open and exploring his mouth savagely with his tongue, like a wild animal. Wrapping his hand in Alexander’s hair, he rutted against him, keening with desperate desire.
Alexander held steady beneath Josiah’s frenzied caresses, absorbing all of his turmoil. He was a rock beneath the onslaught of his frantic passion, and it was that, finally, that broke through the fog and brought him back to himself.
“I’m sorry… oh shit… I’m sorry.” He came to, his chest heaving.
He released his grasp on Alexander’s hair, and the sexual fire raging inside him died, abruptly, leaving him desperately ashamed. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know why I did that. I never lose control.”
“Maybe you should, occasionally.” Alexander stroked gentle, calming circles on his back.
“Christ, I miss him,” he admitted brokenly. “I miss him so much.”
“Of course you do,” Alexander whispered. “But it’s okay. I’m here.”
“You’re not him,” he snapped.
Alexander’s hands stopped stroking and fell uselessly to his sides. Josiah wished he knew a way to ask for them back.
“I know, but you can have me, if you want me,” Alexander told him quietly. “If you want to fuck me, you can.”
Josiah shook his head and then forced himself to pull away and take a step back. He took several deep gulps of air to calm himself.
“It might help, when you feel like this. If not me, then you should go to a gay bar and find someone to fuck.”
“No.”
“It’d be much less painful for you than beating yourself to a pulp.” He ran his fingers gently over Josiah’s bleeding knuckles.
“I said no,” Josiah ground out.
“Why not? A good-looking man like you, built like you…” Alexander trailed off, realisation flooding into his eyes. “Oh,” he breathed. “There’s been nobody since Peter, has there? Not even a one-night stand? Oh, Josiah.” His eyes were full of a pity that Josiah didn’t want.
“You wouldn’t understand. Like you said, you’ve never been in love,” he snarled.
Alexander smile was pained. “You’re right, but I know what it’s like to hurt, and you’re hurting right now.”
“I’ll be fine.” He straightened up.
“No, you won’t. Have you ever seen someone about it?”
“About what?” He stared at the indie blankly.
“Peter’s death. You were beating that punch bag like a madman because you couldn’t save him. For some reason you think that was your mission in life, but you’re not superhuman. You’re not to blame, Joe. You’re really not.” Alexander reached out to stroke the side of his face gently.
“I’m fine. I don’t need to see anyone. I don’t usually have that nightmare… in the beginning, maybe, but not for some time. I don’t know why now…”
“Don’t you?” Alexander studied him intently. “Are you sure you don’t know why?”
Josiah blinked. “I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping. The anniversary of his death has hit me particularly hard this year, for some reason.” He felt foolish for being so weak in front of this man, of all people.
