“Fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry,” I said. “Not with me.”
We stayed like that for a long while, wrapped around each other as the storm inside him settled. And when his breathing evened out, I continued holding him long after he drifted back to sleep, my hand resting against his back, feeling the steady rise and fall that told me he was safe in my arms.
The nightmares visited every night, but somehow, he didn’t carry them into his days. Each morning, he woke with quiet determination, facing the world with a strength that humbled me. He FaceTimed Jess and Eli every chance he got, his face softening when Eli giggled and babbled into the camera. He helped Morgan with little Gabbi,cradling her as if he’d always known how to hold a baby, his fingers gentle and sure. And to my surprise, he’d even started joining the weekly cooking class, managing some damn fine apple and cinnamon muffins that had everyone asking for seconds.
And something shifted in him, the nightmares quietened, and on a bitterly cold late January morning over coffee, as yet more snow covered the yard, he looked up at me. “I want to schedule the graft.”
“Of course.”
“I want to do it,” he repeated, stronger this time. “Not because Ihaveto. Because Iwantto. I’m ready to take that step.”
I reached across the table, my fingers closing over his. “I’m proud of you.”
“And when I’m done, I want to go to college and learn some stuff, so I’m not so useless.”
“You’re not useless.”
“You know what I mean,” he said with a faint, almost shy smile. “I need to do something. Jazz is doing the veterinary nursing thing, and I was thinking… maybe something like music therapy? Or teaching? Or even study music production, learning how to record and arrange tracks. I’ve always loved playing, but maybe I can do more with it. Help people the way you helped me.”
I squeezed his hand. “I think you’d be amazing at that, Ty. You’ve already got the heart for it. The rest you can learn.”
He let out a small breath, like saying it aloud had lifted some weight off his chest. “Yeah. Maybe it’s time I start living again.”
TWENTY
Tyler
And by living,I meant showing Marcus what he meant to me.
The storm inside me had eased, but Marcus still held me close every night he wasn’t on call, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. And honestly, neither was I. Tonight, after the nightmare visited, his steady hand rubbed small circles against my back, grounding me as my breathing evened out again, and I was frustrated. We kissed, we got each other off, he was the king of the blowjobs, but tonight, I wanted more. Needed more.
I tipped my head back just enough to look at him. His eyes were full of the kind of warmth I still didn’t always know how to accept. Kisses started slow but grew harder, and the air between usthickened, the weight of what I was asking sparking between us. I leaned in first, kissing him, testing, and then again, deeper, hungrier. Marcus answered with a quiet groan, his hand sliding into my hair, pulling me closer, his lips hot and insistent.
Heat rolled through me, urgent and sharp, banishing the leftover ghosts of the nightmare. My hands roamed his body, memorizing every inch of warm skin, every scar, every freckle. I tugged his shirt off, needing him bare under my hands. The moment his chest was exposed, I traced my fingers down his sternum, watching the muscles ripple under my touch.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I murmured, my voice low, rough.
“Don’t stop,” Marcus said, his pupils blown wide.
I rolled him beneath me, my weight pressing him into the mattress. His breath hitched, but he clutched at my waist, urging me closer. My mouth found his neck, tasting him, marking him as mine. The small noises he made were addictive, and I needed him so badly.
Clothes were pulled off with increasing urgency until we were both naked, skin sliding against skin, the air between us electric. I reached for the lube onthe nightstand, slicking my fingers before slowly opening him up, taking my time, watching every flicker of pleasure and need cross his face. Each time I pushed a little deeper, Marcus whimpered, desperate sounds catching in his throat. His head tipped back to the pillow, lips parted, letting out breathy gasps that broke into needy little moans with every slow stretch of my fingers. When I curled them just right, his hips bucked up, and a ragged whine escaped him—a sound that went straight to my core, making my cock twitch with need.
“That’s it, baby,” I whispered as his hips arched into my touch, his breath coming in soft moans. “You’re perfect.”
“Tyler,” he gasped, voice shaking. “Please… I need you.”
I kissed him again, slow and deep, before shifting our bodies, rolling us over in one smooth motion so Marcus straddled my hips. His thighs gripped me, and for a second, we both froze, breathing heavy, eyes locked.
“I want to see you,” I rasped. “Want to watch you come undone.”
Marcus let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into a flushed, wrecked smile. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I want that too.”
He lifted himself, reaching behind to guide me inside him, his mouth falling open on a gasping moan as I filled him. His head tipped back, throat exposed, flushed and glistening with sweat. Every tiny movement of his hips sent sparks of heat through both of us. He rode me with a slow, deliberate rhythm at first, grinding down and pulling back, building a delicious friction that had both of us shaking.
The sounds he made drove me wild—breathless little gasps, sharp whimpers, and broken moans of my name every time I thrust up to meet him. His fingers dug into my chest for balance, his body trembling as the pleasure grew.
