I’m so fucking ashamed. It’s been three days since our date and since I jerked off to thoughts of Charlie for the first time, and even though I told myself it wouldn’t happen again, it’s happened every day since. I’ve never had such intense orgasms in all my life. Not even when I was making love to Rachel. What does that say about me? One thing's for sure. This isn’t a phase. This isn’t something I’m going to ‘get over’ or ‘work out of my system.’ He’s embedded in me like a drug, addictive, painful and irresistible.
Guilt gnaws at me, keeping me awake once again. I run my fingers through my hair and let out a sigh as I lie in bed.
I start when I hear a scream from down the hall that has my body tensing and my heart slamming against my ribcage. I jump out of bed and race for Charlie’s room, flinging the door open. I can barely make out his form in the darkness.
“No!” he cries. “Stop! Please!”
I stumble towards him, stepping on clothes and magazines that are strewn across the floor, my hands reaching for the cord on the bedside lamp before I find it and flick it on. He’s whimpering as he tosses and turns, his arms thrashing, sweat beading his brow. “Stop!” he cries again. “I’m sorry!”
I climb onto the bed and reach for him. “Charlie,” I say loudly, trying to wake him. He doesn’t stop, and his cries make my chest ache. I reach out and grip his arm. He thrashes wildly. “Let go!”
“Charlie, wake up,” I urge. “It’s me, sweetheart.” I shake him, and his eyes fly open, darting around, panicked, before his green irises meet mine in the dim light, his cheeks streaked with tears.
“Papa Bear,” he says, his lower lip trembling. The next thing I know, he’s scrambling up and into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck as he settles into me, his body shaking and wracked with sobs. I cradle him, his nose pressed to my neck, his knees bent and his small feet resting on my thigh.
“Shh,” I soothe. “You’re okay. You’re safe, Charlie. I promise.” I rub his back and press kisses to his sweat-slicked hair. I stroke the nape of his neck as he nuzzles me with his nose, sending shivers down my spine. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. He shakes his head.
I nod and rock back and forth slightly with him in my arms until his trembling lessens.
His chest heaves and he wipes his nose. “S…stay with me?” He stutters. “P…please. I don’t want to be alone.” Fresh tears fall, and I cradle him closer, my hand gripping the side of his head as it rests against my shoulder.
My poor boy. I can sense how hard it is for him to ask this of me, and I wish it wasn’t. I wish he knew he didn’t have to face his fears alone and that when I said I wanted him to tell me if he needed anything, I meant anything, including someone to talk to about whatever keeps him up at night. I wish I’d known he was fighting night terrors all along. I’m so thankful I heard him. No wonder he’s been so run down and exhausted since he got here. “Of course,” I tell him. I press a kiss to his head. I expect him to extract himself from my embrace but he doesn’t move, so instead, I lower us both to the bed and he stays wrapped around me, his arm across my torso, his head resting on my chest, his leg slotted in between mine and his nose pressed against my neck. I feel his warm breath on my skin and his tears sliding under the collar of my shirt as I stroke his back and arm simultaneously. His chest rises and falls against me, and with each breath I can feel him relaxing into me. I reach over and grab a tissue from the nightstand and rub his nose and he buries his face in my neck afterwards, flushing. I hold him more tightly and stroke my fingers through his hair once more. My heart aches for him. How could anyone hurt this beautiful boy, this incredible human being with such a compassionate tender soul?
After a moment he does pull away. “I think I’d like to shower,” he tells me. “I feel gross.”
I nod. “I’ll be right here,” I promise, and squeeze his hand as he slides out of bed, still a little shaky. He grabs a change of clothes from his dresser before disappearing down the hall, and I take the opportunity to change the sheets so he can come back to a clean, comfortable bed that isn’t drenched in sweat.
He’s back in the room ten minutes later, wearing pajama pants and a cropped T-shirt, and my heart stutters in my chest as he runs his fingers through his damp red curls. He looks worn, and slightly pale, but when his eyes meet mine, he smiles, and it’s so genuine it makes my chest ache. And yet my heart is pounding, knowing he’ll be in my arms tonight, his warm body pressed against mine in that adorable outfit, my hands on his bare skin. How am I supposed to keep myself from reacting to that?
He climbs into bed and positions himself just as before, and I wonder if I’ll sleep a wink tonight as my arm wraps around him.
“Thank you,” I hear him whisper, his breath tickling my ear. The soft snores I hear only moments later are the best sound in the world, and I don’t let go because if he wakes again I will be here, right where he needs me.
* * *
When I wake, we’re in exactly the same position we fell asleep in the night before. Charlie slept soundly the rest of the night, thank goodness, and honestly I can’t remember sleeping better myself. It’s been a long time since I shared a bed with someone, and having a warm body wrapped around me, holding someone I care about close, it felt good, right. Why does everything feel so fucking right with him?
He stirs, and I realize I’ve been carding my fingers through his hair absentmindedly. Then he tilts his head up to look at me and my heart starts pounding because his lips are so full, and pink and—
“Morning, Papa Bear,” he says, and gives me that gorgeous smile, his eyelashes fluttering. God, he’s so pretty.
“Morning. You sleep okay, after…?”
He nods. His gaze lowers but then his eyes meet mine again.“Thank you, for coming, and for staying.”
I stroke his cheek. “Of course. I only wish you had told me sooner what was going on, Charlie. I’m so sorry you’re struggling.”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
“But you don’t have to handle it alone. Not anymore. I’m here, okay? And I want to help you. Remember? You were going to tell me if you need something. This counts. Thank you for asking me to stay last night. I want to be here for you. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to need people. Handling things alone doesn’t make you strong, Charlie. And asking for help doesn’t make you weak.”
Tears fill his eyes again and he nods. I press a kiss to his head and when I look back at him his gaze lowers to my mouth. I suck in a breath and swallow before I pull away and sit up. My cock is hard, my heart is racing, and I’m so fucking scared of what will happen if I stay. What I will do. He can’t look at me like that. Shit, I’m shaking. I have to get out of here.
“I’m going to shower,” I tell him, my voice sounding anything but steady, though I try. Then I stand and leave the room.
When I get out of the shower I dress and head to the kitchen. Charlie isn’t there, or in the living room. I head back to his room, assuming he’s still in bed, but he’s not there either. Where did he go? I check the backyard but it’s void of any sign of him. What the hell?
“Charlie?” I call. There’s no answer and the house isn’t exactly big. The keys are still on the hook by the door. I pull my phone out and text him.
