Casey just kept holding me each night. Kissing me each morning. Checking on me all day long at work.
And I felt safe, loved, and so much like I didn’t deserve all of his attention.
He bought me pens, expensive paper, professional quality markers. It was clear he was doing anything he could for me, but I couldn’t shake the sadness. I’d go to work and do everything I had to do there, and then come home with a bone-deep exhaustion, ready for bed almost the second I hit the front door.
The weeks dragged on that way and I slept a lot.
Casey took me to get my cast off when the time came, and he held my hand while it happened. The whir of the blade that I knew couldn’t cut my skin sent frissons of fear into the deepest part of my chest where it rattled around.
I was so grateful he was there.
And I cried all over him like an idiot in the car afterwards. He only held me and ran his fingers through my hair. “I love you, little brother. Of course I’m here with you. I love you.”
I trembled and held him tighter because “I love you” was as good as “I’m sorry” from him, and it woke up all sorts of needs in me, but for some reason right now they weren’t sex, and I was frustrated with it all. I just wanted him to keep me close.
I had to go to therapy for my hand, and the appointments were different from the psych visits because they were so much easier. Physical pain hurt in a way I could deal with. Dr. Griffin? He just kept forcing me to say things out loud like “I’m worth loving,” which always sort of made me think I was going to throw up.
But that was getting easier, too.
One night, once the days started getting warmer and longer, and itty-bitty purple flowers poked through the snow in the landscaping around Casey’s house in the southwest suburbs of New Gothenburg, he took me to the lake. We watched the sunset together, nothing crazy. Neither of us talked. We’d had dinner already and laziness had a grip on us. He let me borrow one of his hoodies, and I curled up in it while he held me on his lap on a bench near the water. We stared out at the small waves tinged in purples and pinks by the dying sun. It was all so peaceful, and his arms were strong, and I wanted to paint the colors dazzling my eyes on paper.
Sitting there with him that night, so quiet and still, I started to feel better. I turned in his lap and kissed him, and he moaned into my mouth.
“Hey,” he said with a small smile. He seemed so excited that I felt terrible for how long I’d been ignoring this between us. I kissed him again and flicked my tongue over his.
“Hey, yourself.”
He laughed and held me closer.
That night, for the first time, while Casey was in the den setting up a game for us, I went upstairs, found the larger plug from the set he’d bought me, lubed it, and slid it into my own ass. He’d always done it in the past. It was cold and weird to put the plug in my body alone, and I preferred Casey to do it, but I wanted to be full. And I was beginning to feel awkward about the fact that we hadn’t had sex in so long, now that I wanted to think about it again.
He’d been patient with me.
He’d wanted it the whole time, or at least he’d been getting hard when I wasn’t, and he hadn’t forced the issue. I tried to breathe away the guilt because my therapist kept telling me people did nice things for me because they liked me and not for any other reason.
Casey respected me because he… loved me. We didn’t tell each other every day, but I thought about how my feelings for him were growing a lot, and every time I did my chest went funny. Light… happy.
When I went back downstairs to the den, with the lube tucked secretly in my right pocket, he smiled at me from where he sat on the floor with his back against the front of the couch and the red side of the Switch controller in his hand. He held out the blue side toward me, and I went and plopped down on his lap. He moved his legs to either side of me and laughed as I settled back against him. I gasped as the plug—why did I pick the big one?—nudged against my insides.
“Oh, hello,” he murmured, and I glanced down to my lap where his attention was focused. My pajama pants jutted out. “Hi there, cutie.”
I snagged his free hand and brought it down to my dick, and he gave me a quick squeeze that sent heat rushing through me in waves.
“Please, Casey bear,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been….”
He held me closer and massaged my hard-on, which warmed me up even faster and had me spreading my legs for him. “Don’t you dare apologize. Grown-up.”
“No, don’t safeword out.” I hung my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He rubbed between my legs and it felt so good under the soft fabric of my boxers. I humped into his touch and he leaned down to kiss my cheek. “People go through things. Even if you never wanted to fuck me again, I would still be here, okay?”
“Not ever?”
He chuckled and managed to grip his hand around my dick in the loose pants, giving me a real stroke that had me gasping and thrusting along with him. “Okay, I would remain eternally hopeful that you’d want me to do this again,” he said with a laugh. “Are you feeling okay with what’s happening?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to offer to touch you this way? I’m in charge of you as my little brother, but as your boyfriend and your partner, I want to know you are, for a fact, ready to dive back into this. It seemed like we were on a break… with the sexual aspect of our relationship. I don’t want to force anything on you.” He trailed off, and I wanted to slap him because he was so fucking considerate. Where had my big growly bear gone?
