My chuckle disappeared into a gasp as Regge’s fingers worked their magic. “I, ah, I haven’t done this in a while, so…”
“Shush. I’ll go as slow as you need, love. I would never hurt you.”
I forgot about words as Regge’s infinite patience and tenderness was put into play. I forgot everything—how to breathe, how to move, everything. “Please, Reg, now. I need—”
The heat and pressure of him was almost unbearable. But I was flying by this time, desperate to soar.
“You feel so bloody good, HB. So bloody perfect.”
I forced myself to relax. It really had been a while, and I’d forgotten the initial pain of it. But this was Regge. His touch was whisper soft, lips tender, breathing strained as he struggled for control.
“Okay?” he asked. I nodded, unable to speak.
His forehead dipped to the nape of my neck, his lips ghosting my skin. I throbbed inside and out as I let my mind goand my body took over. I loved this. I wanted this all the time. If only Regge would—oh. Oh yeah, that.
The world narrowed to a focal point. The apex of our connection. A snap of his hips, and we were off. The burn was gone, replaced by fire and need. Deftly the angle changed and I saw stars. Sensation mounted until I lost myself in him. I felt his hand on me and time stopped. A high keening noise buzzed through me. I buried my shout into a pillow, only vaguely aware of being in my mother’s house.
Regge’s elegant dance fell into desperate plunges until he too had to stifle his moan against my shoulder.
After a few moments of catching our breath, I rolled away to grab a towel. I half expected him to be up and halfway dressed when I came back, but he was lying peacefully on the far side of the bed. I tossed the stained pillow to the ground and climbed into bed. Regge hummed and rolled to his side, snuggling up to my front.
“You good?” I asked, my hand settling over his heart, feeling the steady beat.
“I’m happy.” Before long, his breaths lengthened into sleep.
Hours later, I woke as he thrashed next to me. Before I could sit up, his forearm was pressed across my throat. Regge leaned over me, a growl erupting from him. His eyes were wide with terror and unseeing, because he clearly had no idea who I was.
“Regge. Hey, stop,” I croaked out, grabbing at his arms. I managed to shift and slide away, turning him to the side. I blocked a fist. “Wake up, Reg, it’s me. It’s okay. You’re safe.” I caught his fist, moving my hand to hold him as gently as I could.
“Hunter?” He sagged, falling back on the bed. His eyes blinked up at the ceiling. He sounded like an out-of-shapemarathon runner, and in between pants, he moaned something pitiful and hurt.
“Yes. It’s me. Hunter. You’re okay. It was just a bad dream. You’re here in New York. My mom’s house. Remember?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I remember.” He sat up.
“Let me get you some water.” I found a glass in the bathroom and filled it, bringing it back to bed. “You okay now?”
He sipped the tepid water and handed the glass back, peering at me. “Oh shit. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?”
“No. I’m fine.” I didn’t lie. I wasn’t hurt physically, but he’d scared the crap out of me. “I didn’t know you were back to the nightmares.”
When Regge first came to live with me, there was rarely a night without him sitting up in terror, sweating over some unknown threat. Gradually the nightmares subsided.
“I haven’t had one in a long time.”
I set the glass down and slid into bed, pulling him into my arms. “Do you want the light on?”
He shook his head and hunkered down, the top of his head coming under my chin. I gazed across the room at the Bowie poster on the wall. The shadows grew long and dark across Bowie’s cut cheekbones. I fell into a vision.
It was the usual graying to black and then light as I could focus again. This one hadn’t gone far, but it was of Regge, which was unusual. I momentarily wondered if this was present or future.
We were still in my bed, Regge was crying—deep hitching sobs that scratched at my heart with every gasp.
He was talking, babbling, really. Words spilling out in a rush—his nightmare, his memory, and it was painful, so painful, but cathartic too, and I knew in my soul this had to happen.
The vision faded, and I felt the familiar jolt of being in real time. Just like that, we were back. Regge hadn’t moved, and I stroked his head, brushing the hair across his forehead.
“Do you want to talk? I think you need to tell me.”
