Can he be real? No one is this perfect, this good, this wonderful. No one could see all this and ask to keep it. I nod but then my gaze lowers and I ask, “You don’t think I’m a fucking whore?”
“What?” he says, his voice stern. “Hey, look at me.” I do but it’s incredibly hard. My lower lip trembles and my chest heaves as tears slide down my cheeks.
“I think you are one of the bravest people I have ever met, and you did what you had to do to survive, Charlie. I will never think less of you for the choices you had to make.” He takes my chin in his thumb and forefinger. “Hear me?” I sniffle and nod. “Good.”
I lie back down with my head against his chest and he cards his fingers through my hair. “The nightmares, are they about your parents?” he asks. I nod.
“And my time on the streets,” I admit, “but mostly my parents. If you can believe it, that was actually worse.” He squeezes me tightly and presses a kiss to my hair.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, and I nod again. “What made you trust me enough to bottom with me?”
I tell him the truth. “You’ve done everything to show me that you care about me. I’ve never doubted that from the moment I walked through your door. My wellbeing was always your top priority. I knew you would be different. I wanted you. I needed you.” My eyes flick over his face.
“It was my pleasure,” he tells me. And I believe him. “You’re an amazing person, Charlie Morrison. Everything about you is incredible. Your heart, and your courage, your strength, and resilience. The amount of love and light you have left in your soul after everything you’ve been through. I’m in awe of who you are.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as I press my lips to his and kiss him tenderly. He has no idea what those words mean to me. I’m not sure I believe them, but they still matter. Especially coming from him. If someone as incredible as him can find something amazing in me, then I must be loveable and worthy. I must be good, despite what my parents told me.
ChapterEleven
PAUL
A week later, I wake before Charlie so that I can surprise him with breakfast in bed. I make coffee, waffles with all the fixings like I know he loves, pour him some orange juice and set everything on a tray along with an envelope with his name on it and a single red rose. Today is no special day for the rest of the world. It happens to be mid October. But for Charlie and I, it’s a month since he first moved in, and I guess this is my way of celebrating.
He hasn’t slept in his own bed since the morning we fucked. I couldn’t let him sleep alone after knowing about his nightmares, or after the intimate moments we’d shared. He’s so much more to me than a casual fuck and I even though I can’t understand it, he wants me close to him. He needs me. And fuck, I need him.
He’s had a few more nightmares since then. I’ve woken up to his cries, his screams, him drenched in sweat, tears sliding down his cheeks. I take him into my arms each time. I hold him, kiss him, offer him my assurances of safety. I ask if he wants to talk about it. Sometimes he does, and we lie awake for minutes, or hours, while he tells me with tears sliding down his cheeks, his body trembling, about the physical, verbal and emotional abuse both of his parents put him through for years, just for being him. And I can’t believe he survived in that house for as long as he did. My beautiful boy. Every part of me wants to drive over there and wring their fucking necks for the things he’s telling me they said and did to him. I listen, and wipe his tears away. Sometimes I hold him and he drifts back to sleep. Sometimes I kiss him until I hear his soft snores again. Sometimes I pleasure him in whatever way he asks me to. But always, always I’m there.
I enter the room and place the tray on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He has the blankets pulled up over his shoulders and chin as he sleeps, and the only part of him I can see is his nose, eyes, and unruly red waves. I can’t wait to see those gorgeous green irises looking back at me and hear that snarky sass that is so very Charlie. I can’t wait to see that bright smile that has become so very quickly my favorite part of being alive.
My heart swells with affection and fondness for this beautiful young man. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have him in my life. I know I don’t deserve him, but for some crazy reason, for this moment in time at least, he’s chosen me.
I lean over and press a kiss to his head and then whisper in his ear. “Rise and shine, beautiful.”
He groans and burrows under the covers. It’s not exactly the romantic wake up call I envisioned but I guess that’s real life for you. I sit on the side of the bed and sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to eat all this delicious food myself then. It’s too bad, really. This waffle looks amazing.”
He stirs and his head peeks out from under the covers, one eye opening. He glares at me as I move to put a bite in my mouth. “If that touches your tongue my cock won’t be for a week,” he threatens, sitting up. I laugh.
“I think that would punish you, too,” I point out.
“Shut up, I’m not thinking clearly. I’m tired.” His eyes light up when he sees the rose and envelope. “Oooh, presents.” I laugh again as he snatches the fork from me and shoves the waffle in his mouth, then reaches for the envelope, tearing it open. He swallows too soon and I don’t know if the tears filling his eyes are actual tears or because he’s choking.
“You…you got us mani/pedis?” he says, staring at me in shock. I nod. The next thing I know I’m on my back and Charlie is on top of me, planting kisses on my face. I can’t stop laughing.
“You’re amazing,” he tells me, then sits up, kneeling on the bed next to me. “What’s this for?”
I flush and rub the back of my neck. I hope I’m not making a bigger deal out of this than I should be. “It’s been a month.”
His eyes widen. “It has. Oh, are we celebrating?”
“I kinda figured we could. Unless you don’t plan to stay.” My heart starts to beat frantically. I guess I kind of assumed that after everything, he would be staying, but maybe I shouldn’t have?
“I might have to think about it.” His eyes twinkle.
I frown and he laughs. Then he’s on his back as I tickle him, and he squirms and shrieks. I press kisses to his jaw and neck and then blow raspberries on his belly button as he cackles.
“Okay, okay, I’m staying,” he tells me. “I promise.”
“There now, was that so hard?” I ask, smiling at him. God, I’m so captivated by him as he smiles up at me, his chest rising and falling, his stomach sinking in as he catches his breath. He’s so pretty and vibrant and wonderful. I feel like I not only have a lover, but a best friend again, someone who understands me and cares for me, someone I can laugh with, and it’s the best medicine. My chest constricts and I have to keep myself from being overcome by my emotions. Shit. I’m so fucking crazy about him, and I want to keep him so badly, but what will happen when he finds out the truth about me?
