I focus and shed my revenant persona; once again I’m just Alex Strada, or Nolan, or Lowen, whatever someone prefers.
Bay smiles radiantly; I think I see moisture in his eyes.
"This is how I dreamed of you for a thousand nights in that abyss that separated us. Day after day I dreamed of you, Alex, of these moments…" he whispers, swaying into me, our breaths intertwining, lips lightly brushing.
"This is no longer a dream. Make love to me, today, tomorrow, the day after. I want everything back exactly like it was between us."
"I will, every day, as many times as you want…" he mumbles, his breath hoarse and uneven, his face flushed. Then, I unexpectedly reach my peak, way too fast, but that’s how it works between True Mates.
Suddenly, I hear his quiet, breathless whisper by my ear, "Ten years? Is it possible? Sometimes you just can’t geteverything back…" His hips press harder against me, and I can feel him pulsing inside.
"And sometimes you can, and that will be the case for us," I moan out, coming again, in ecstasy that binds us together.
???
The next few days are exactly what I hoped for, everyday life built slowly together, and we’re slipping into its rhythm smoothly.
Of course Bay finds my nest as soon as we get back from the woods. He stops next to it and stares at it for a moment, then turns toward me with a subtle smile. He even gives me a little wink. And I blush like crazy. In ABO society, talking about nests is wrapped in heavy taboo, but between partners it’s somewhat allowed.
Bay understands my shyness without me saying a word. He reaches out, and our fingers intertwine. We stand there for a moment, looking at my creation.
Then we just move on with our day as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
But I already have plans for how to expand my nest!
Then I sit down at my laptop to get back to work.
I’m getting ready to defend my PhD, and Bay is planning a new music video, so Malik stops by our place often. I don’t feel even a hint of jealousy. I know he’s a good and loyal friend who supported Bay’s career when I couldn’t be there. What I feel is gratitude, because he did a damn good job.
What’s interesting is that neither Bay nor I expect immediate miracles. We’re taking our time, getting used to each other again, finding our way through the small differences of daily life. I discover, for example, that Bay’s culinary tastes havechanged a little, and so have mine. But what matters is that they don’t clash at all. We just find ways to let them complement each other.
Same with our sleep habits. Bay is a night owl, sometimes staying up late writing songs or talking on the phone with Eric or his producer, while I have to wake up early for classes, so I go to bed much earlier. At first I worry it might mess up our routines and make us miss each other, but it turns out it’s not a problem. Bay is flexible and respects the fact that I need sleep, so anything loud, like rehearsals or composing, he schedules for times when I’m awake.
What surprises me is how smoothly everything goes when we discuss these adjustments. Maybe it’s True Mate magic, maybe something else. I have no idea how it works for others, but for us it creates this strange ease in communication and a complete lack of inner resistance, even when something comes up that requires change from either of us.
The next week is especially packed with sex, and we rediscover each other piece by piece. We spend long hours in bed, making love slow, wild, tender, or just fucking like rabbits everywhere, on the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the windowsill or on the floor. I feel something inside me unlocking, like a tight spiral coming undone, everything buried for so long rising back to the surface. Every day I wake up feeling this rising current in my body, charging my energy and my libido, and I immediately jump onto his dick, eager to start again.
Once, my sexual temperament meant I needed five to seven smaller orgasms one after another to feel satisfied. Now I still need several, at least three, but they feel deeper, longer, more mature. I used to worry Bay wouldn’t be able to keep up, but I underestimated him.
We’re in perfect sync, another proof of our True Mate Bond.
There is one more day that is especially difficult for me, the day Bay lets me read his diary from the last ten years. I read it in a state that feels like a fever.
In shock, I turn the pages, finding entries like this:
"I follow him whenever I am not working. I watch his slight frame from a distance. He is terrified, slipping across the campus like a hunted animal, hunched in on himself, miserable, and I hate that I am not with him. I should be! He should be mine to care for, to protect. And the only thing I can give him is this secret guardianship he does not even know about. So we both suffer, submerged in shadows, hidden behind masks."
Then:
"Today I felt a wave of unease. Dark shadows gathered around me, and I knew Alex was in danger. I got dressed in a rush and ran to his place. Alex had changed the door and the access code, I couldn’t get in and had to break inside. I found him in terrible condition, with that student, dead, dried out. What a situation. Unreal. Impossible to explain. Alex carries a secret, just like I do. But his heat had begun, and he asked me to help him. How could I refuse? I’ve always dreamed of sharing his first heat with him. In this twisted way, Fate did not take this one thing from us after all…"
And then:
"His eyes fixed on my mask as he stood right in front of me, struggling with himself, fighting instinct. Desire pushed him toward me, but the fear that this might not be me, that it could be someone else, split him in two like a blade. I saw that fear and that boundless shame. Our magic still works, but he does not know it. They say True Mates have the Pull, a magical attraction. If they do not fulfill it, both will die. So if we can remain apart, it means we are not fated. And yet there is this strange connection between us, this chemistry that only works when we are standing next to each other. I cannot explain it.Who are we to each other? A mystery. One thing is certain. He is the only one I want. And I do not understand why. Is the same thing true for him?"
These entries are interwoven with passages about loneliness, about a constant, suffocating sense of hopelessness, despair, and a deep, burning anger at the world.
There are also entries about his missions for Ennio, about the difficulties they involved, and about the feeling that this was the only thing left to him in life, helping those people and simply staying alive, because the alternative would mean tragedy for the people he loves, for his parents.
