Suddenly, he felt cold. He shivered, teeth clattering. Henry pulled at the comforter and covered Colton’s naked upper body with the soft, warm fabric. “Jesus, you’re shaking. Here, let me get you warm.” Henry pulled him towards his own still sleep warm body and that’s when Colton noticed the first tears trickle down his cheeks.
“It’s…” he mumbled. “He’s… not… it’s…” he couldn’t put the words properly together in his head. It felt like all his thoughts were jumbled together like a game of Scrabble. Like he couldn’t connect them. He knew this feeling. How many nights had he woken up like this from a nightmare so real that it often took him several hours to convince himself that it was over. Because it was over. The war. Only, it wasn’t, was it? Not inside his head. It felt as real as if he was still back there. In the desert. Lost.
“Shh,” he heard Henry’s soft voice as he continued to hold him almost like one would hold a small child, comforting him. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Even though Henry’s voice sounded as if it was coming from miles away through layers of cotton, it still felt soothing. Like a beacon in the darkness of the night. Unlike all the other times, when he’d woken up drenched in sweat, his heart racing, beating through his chest, he wasn’t alone this time. Henry was here.
He suddenly recalled the night before. How they’d gotten each other off. How he’d settled in next to Henry in his bed afterwards. The tickling sensation on his right shoulder from Henry’s soft breaths as he was drifting off to sleep, his one arm slung heavily across Colton’s naked stomach. That was the first time Colton had ever slept next to anyone before.
“What time is it?” he murmured, his voice tender from the screaming.
Henry looked towards the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 3:15. We should try to go back to sleep. Do you think you can? Sleep again, that is?” Henry raised his hand and held Colton’s cheek, softly swiping at the tears.
He stared into the indigo of his lover’s eyes as if the answer to Henry’s question somehow lay there in the depths of the blue.
He nodded silently, and Henry tucked him to his chest and quietly guided him down on the bed again. He felt the soft rhythm of Henry’s heart as he rested his head against his chest. The younger man continued to stroke his hair gently, a silent reassurance that everything was okay. That it was safe to let himself fall asleep again while Henry was holding him. And for the first time in what seemed like years, Colton felt that everything was okay. Or that it at least could be at some point. And that had a lot to do with the man lying next to him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Henry
WHEN HENRY WOKEup in the early morning hours, Colton was still fast asleep next to him. He’d been mumbling, sometimes whimpering, in his sleep throughout the night, however, now he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Not wanting to wake him, Henry silently climbed out of bed, grabbed his clothes from the night before and went into the adjoining bathroom.
He stood bent over the sink looking into the mirror. It had been devastating waking up to Colton screaming in his sleep. He knew since the panic attack that Colton suffered from PTSD, however, to experience it firsthand in the middle of the night was something else entirely. To feel the chaos within Colton while he’d held him. That had shaken Henry to his core. Panic, fear, and dread had pulsed through Colton’s sweaty body, radiating into Henry’s own. The tormented look in Colton’s eyes as Henry continued to assure him that he was fine. That it was over. At least for now.
The terrible awakening stood in sharp contrast to what had happened earlier that evening. Colton’s admission that he wanted to kiss him again. The innocent teasing in his room. The searching, needy looks. The hungry kisses followed by the mutual hand job. Skin against skin. Colton’s pulsing cock against his own. The frantic yet firm grip of Colton’s large hand beneath Henry’s. The stroking motion up and down towards the mutual, desperate need for an orgasm. Henry spilling his pent up want and desire all over their hands. Colton following him shortly after with an almost pained shout. Falling asleep to the repetitive rhythm of Colton’s beating heart as Henry used his chest as a pillow.
He shook his head and turned on the faucet, splashing his face with cold water. He felt uncertain what came next. Not so much regarding himself and Colton and the budding… something. He wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but he couldn’t deny that there was something there despite Colton claiming to be straight. It had been more than just getting off yesterday. He’d felt it and somehow, he had a feeling that Colton had felt it too.
No, the uncertainty came from Colton’s panic attack and the recurring nightmares. This was unknown territory to Henry. He was a vet, for Chrissake. It was one thing to tend to minor injuries, the odd scrapes and bruises.Thathe could handle. But dealing with trauma caused by God knows what terrible, horrific experiences during war, that was new to him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Colton had seen and lived through. What he had lost. He wouldn’t pretend to assume that he had any kind of insight into the all-consuming trauma causing Colton’s anxiety. Colton needed help. Help that Henry could not give him alone.
Entering the kitchen downstairs, he found his gran finishing up the Saturday breakfast and starting the coffee. They usually ate together unless Henry went to the diner. Gran was mostly up before dawn all days of the week and on Saturdays she often went to visit the next-door neighbor, Eliza. Not being able to go far from home due to the limited mobility caused by the seizure a few years back, it was comforting to know that his gran had a close friend next door. They usually spent the Saturday morning swapping recipes, gossiping and consuming gallons of sweet tea.
He went to stand behind his gran, giving her a soft peck on the cheek. She smelled of her usual soap, and he didn’t recall her ever smelling of anything else than gardenia. It had been the first of many flowers they’d planted together in Iris’ garden when Henry had moved in at sixteen.
“Morning Gran,” he smiled at her.
“Morning sweetheart,” she replied brushing her furrowed hand across his left cheek. “Breakfast is almost ready if you want to tell your friend.”
Of course, she knew that someone had slept over. He’d never made a habit out of hiding things to his gran, but she always seemed to know before he could tell her anything anyway.
“Uhm, yeah, Colton… You know, Hank Dietrich’s nephew, slept over. We had a bit too much to drink last night. You know how Vernon rarely lets his friends’ glasses run dry…” he trailed off.
“That was nice of you,” his gran smiled, pouring him a cup of coffee. “Was the guest room made up?” She continued with an ambiguous smile at the corner of her mouth.
Jesus.He suddenly felt sixteen again. Cheeks flushed, he took his time getting the milk from the fridge. Before he could come up with a plausible explanation for Colton spending the night inhisroom instead of the guest room ? aside from the urge to have mutual mind-blowing orgasms ? he heard heavy steps on the stairs.
With a hesitant half-smile Colton entered the kitchen and looked at Henry, hazel eyes taking in the small kitchen. He looked adorable with his ruffled hair and sleepy bedroom eyes and Henry had the urge to step up to him and nuzzle his stubble, inhaling the smell of him. He felt his dick twitch in his sweats.Down boy.This was not the time to pop a boner in front of his gran, disturbing the domestic bliss of a Saturday morning.
“Morning, ma’am,” Colton stretched his hand forward towards Iris. His voice was raspy from sleep and Henry’s knees almost gave way beneath him.Sweet baby Jesus.He needed to get a grip and he needed to do it fast.
His gran still had an amused smile on her face as she stretched her frail hand forward to shake Colton’s. Her petite, wrinkled hand almost drowning in his much larger hand.
“Good morning to you too, young man. Always nice to meet friends of my grandson.” She dragged out the wordfriendwhile she threw a quick, questioning glance at Henry. “I hope you’re staying for breakfast…” she continued as she stirred the eggs. “Oh, and you can lose thema’am,we ain’t fancy like that around here. But who am I talking to? You’re born and bred in this town. Hank’s nephew, right? You know the drill, sweetheart. My name is Iris, but you can just call me Gran if you like.”
Colton glared at Henry who just shrugged. Then he pointed towards the small table in the middle of the kitchen, where he and Iris ate most of their meals. Colton pulled out a chair and took a seat, looking back up at Iris before he corrected the white tablecloth on the dark cherry wood table.
“I do remember you, ma’am… Sorry, I mean, Iris. I think you went to the same church as my folks,” Colton ran a hand through his unruly hair, smoothing the wayward strands down with his fingers. Then he brushed some invisible dust from his slightly wrinkled shirt.
