Thisis my dream. Our sons, any other children we might have, my two pets happy and healthy.
We could all retire, if we wanted to. Susa’s smartly managed our money all these years, and we’re set.
When I fall asleep, the nightmares start almost immediately, about the day in the desert. I’d started that morning before dawn with Eddie. We bunked together in a tiny room in those shitty, temporary housing units there that were little better than plywood boxes.
But we could start most mornings before we got dressed with him naked on his knees and stroking himself as he blew me. Then I’d spend a moment standing there, rubbing his head as he held my softening cock in his mouth, and I’d tell him what a good boy he was for me. Always in German, the phrases he now knew well, because I found out hardly anyone in our unit spoke it.
Less chance of someone catching on.
It was risky and stupid but we did it. The harder I did it, the more he liked it.
And the moreIliked it.
We would sometimes sneak in daytime play, too, but that wasn’t very often.
Nothing like a blowjob under a clear, desert night sky, though.
When we came under fire, I immediately dropped into a different state of mind—clear, calm, shoving my panic to the side when I saw Eddie go down first, shot in the leg.
The car always rolls up slower in my nightmares than it did in real life. In my nightmares, I’m not able to throw myself over them in time, and all three of them die.
In my nightmares, I’m uninjured and left screaming over Eddie, who asks me why I left him behind before he dies.
I awaken in a cold sweat, the sheets soaked. I sit up and realize I’m trembling, shaking.
As bad as this nightmare is, it’s preferable to the other ones, the majority of ones that usually hit me.
The ones where I’m still with Elsa.
* * * *
I have a swim, take a shower, shave, and get some food in me in plenty of time to call Owen on FaceTime, where he’s alone in his bedroom at the mansion.
I smile at him. “How’s my boy?”
“Good, Sir. Miss you.”
“Miss you, too, boy.” I was going to drive up in the morning, but I know I won’t sleep tonight, and another idea hits me.
I keep it to myself.
“How was your trip, Sir?”
“Uneventful, fortunately.”
“Will your friend be okay, Sir?”
Eddie stops by the hotel before I fly out and we have a drink in the bar downstairs.
I don’t dare risk asking him up to my room. Fortunately, he doesn’t suggest it, either.
Before I put him in a cab, I give him a long, strong hug, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the hotel. He smells so familiar, and yet different now.
It’s been so damn long.
I still hurt.
I know he does, too, but this is something I cannot fix for either of us, unfortunately. Not any more than I just did. This ache will always hurt and will never heal.
