Page 47 of Stroke Rate

Before River had even finished his sentence, Chris was out of the car and running. As he reached the door of the house, his body gave in to the stress. He doubled over, emptying his stomach into the flower beds at the doorway; harsh, wrenching spasms rocked his body. His cheek was throbbing; his wrists stung with the rawness of new wounds, and his throat burned with every retch until nothing else came out.

Chris vaguely heard the crunch of gravel before River was beside him. “Please, just let me hold you, okay? I know you can walk on your own, but I-I just need to hold you.” River lifted him, nuzzling his nose into that spot under his ear; the touch should have been soothing, but everything hurt and Chris was drowning in so much shame he couldn't find anything but disgust. Why would he want to touch me anymore?

River breathed him in, taking deep breaths against his neck, uttering sounds of pleasure and words of reverence. He acted as though Chris' closeness and scent were all he required to live. Chris, too weary to put up a struggle, nestled into River's sturdy embrace. The scent of River’s skin surrounded him, and he found comfort in the quiet rhythm of shared breaths. He focused on that feeling of safety with everything he had as he drifted off.

Chris blinked, oriented himself, and realized he was in bed. The memories of what happened with his mother hovered around him like a fog; his breathing picked up and his heart raced, but then he felt River. River’s arms and legs wound around him, binding him in an impossibly tight embrace against his chest. So close and tight, it felt as if River was trying to meld their bodies together; and Chris melted right back.

Blink. The dark remained. River whimpered in his sleep; Chris rubbed his back and shh’d him as River crawled onto his chest like he had the other night. Chris rocked him back and forth as every part of his body screamed—he was so sore, but still River’s weight felt grounding, his warmth felt soothing, and his little puffs of breath were a balm to his tattered nerves. He rocked and shh’d, kissed his temple, sighing a gentle thank you into his hair. River was his salvation, and all he wanted to do was drown in him.

Drown in his scent.

Drown with his heavy body on top of him.

Drown in the feeling of peace.

Allow River to take him under and consume every atom of his body. This right here, holding this giant of a man, soothing him as if he were a tender baby. This was the feeling Chris never wanted to let go; he wanted this forever.

With a final slow, sleepy blink, Chris was awake. Morning light filtered through the window, a warm pale pink on the horizon. River no longer held him, but he stayed close and held Chris’ hand as he slept. Chris’ face throbbed, tender and hot; his wrists were sore and achy; being in the pool was going to sting like a bitch. Thinking about swimming brought a surge of bile up his throat—swimming was so tangled with Laura—he wasn’t sure he could find joy in it anymore. Still, a deep desire pulled him toward the water; the pool beckoned. The need to feel its calming presence, to be held in its embrace, and the want to tell the water all of his secrets was too much to resist. He needed to cry…alone. Untangling their fingers, Chris rolled out of bed, making his way down the hall to the pool.

Chris looked down at his wrists, scratched up, with 10 perfect crescent moon shapes marring both wrists. A couple of minor bruises littered them as well; he didn't even want to look at his face. It still burned and throbbed, tender to the touch; that told him enough. He wasn't ready to talk about it with River; he wasn't sure he could handle the look of pity he was going to receive.

Instead of thinking, Chris jumped into the deep end, let every bit of air out of his lungs, and sank. Sank. Sank. He sat at the bottom, the weight of tangled emotions slowly uncoiling as his lungs begged him to surface. Still, Chris lingered at the bottom, savoring the sharp ache in his lungs from holding his breath for so long. Once he surfaced, Chris ran his hands over the top of the water and spoke, unleashing all the anguish and embarrassment from the night before, a solemn whimper escaping his mouth as he cried. The pool, his safe place, his longest companion, the only thing that had ever held him and listened…until River. The little cuts on his wrists burned from the chlorine. Maybe he deserved to feel more pain. Maybe that was his punishment for allowing the abuse to happen his whole life. More pain. Chris breathed out, "I'm sorry," before he heard River clear his throat.

Hopping into the pool, River approached him with a placating look on his face and outstretched, open hands, as if he wanted to hold Chris.

"Just please don't. Please don't touch me. How could you—how could you even look at me? I’m disgusting. I’m weak and pathetic and so fucking gross. A grown man who couldn't stop his mother from beating him up." Chris' body shook violently as tears streamed down his hot cheeks, gasping for breath as he relived what Laura had done to him. With every gasp, his ribs and stomach clenched with the pain of her kicks.

“Chris, hey. Hey baby. I’m not going to touch you.”

River’s gentle hands reached for him before he pulled back. Seeing that broke Chris a little more. Chris knew those hands and knew that man, and deep down he knew River would never hurt him. “Fuck,” Chris huffed under his breath as the water shifted and River came near; his approach was slow as if Chris were a frightened animal. Which he supposed he was at the moment.

“I won’t touch you, but can you look at me? Please.”

Wiping at his face, Chris ducked under the water and screamed. Fuck, he had wanted River to touch him, he had wanted River to hold him and soothe every bit of pain he had. But his nervous system fought again, with his brain warning him that nothing was safe—touching River wasn’t safe—even as his body ached with the need to be close, touched, and comforted.

As he sank, Chris exhaled every bit of oxygen in his lungs again; his body tried to gasp, and he could hear himself making little whimpering noises. He just wanted it all to stop.

All the pain.

All the shame.

All the internal screaming.

He just needed it all to end.

This is what you deserved, you coward, the voice said. Drown, drown, drown, and it will all end. Just give in.

And then River was there, yanking him up from the bottom of the pool, holding him as he launched off the floor, cradling him like he was the most precious gift. With ragged breaths upon surfacing, he looked into River’s gold-spotted eyes and saw an overwhelming sadness reflected in there. Not an ounce of pity.

“I’m going to kiss you now. If you don't want it, you need to tell me.” But Chris couldn’t because he wanted it; he wanted nothing more than River’s kisses, and he was so fucking tired of the war his brain had unleashed on him. With a deep breath, he let go, trusting the innate urge to surrender and trusting that River would always protect him.

“I love you,” River whispered against his lips, just a soft press of skin. “I love you.” As he ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of Chris’ lips. “I love you.” Before he pushed his mouth to Chris’ again, parting his lips with his own and giving Chris the most tender, reassuring kiss he had ever experienced. It was as if River was trying to tell him you are safe, I am safe, and he knew it. Chris knew that this was the truth. And with every brush of River’s lips over his own, the heavy load Chris had been carrying his whole life lessened.

There, he thought. There he is. My safe place. His breath hitched as River kissed him again and again. Whispering how perfect he was and how much he loved him. “So brave, you are so brave,” River said before he pulled them under the surface of the water, sinking them to the bottom once again. River’s face was blurry when Chris opened his eyes, and the water stung, but he couldn’t look away. River had said he loved him, and fuck, Chris loved him too. Yet he couldn't find it in him to echo those words back, so instead he pulled River in for another kiss as they floated to the surface. I love you, he thought. Please, please know that I love you. Even if I can’t say it yet.

Chapter thirty-eight

River