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I’ll find you.
Sucking in a deep breath my eyelids fling open and I sit up quickly. That’s the third time this week. Drenched in sweat, I bring one hand to my chest, placing it over my racing heart, trying to catch my breath. While the nightmares have been happening for months, I’ve been reliving this one specific moment over and over, ever since I found the information on Ellie last week. A never-ending bad dream, but it’s not a dream or even a nightmare, it’s a memory.
One that I will never let myself forget.
Pressing my fingers into my eyes I shift my focus to my breathing, when suddenly I feel him stirring beside me.
Shit, I fell asleep. No shower. No getting dressed, just sleep. This keeps happening. It’s not supposed to happen. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Zeke?” The fog that’s engulfing my brain is parted by Riot’s voice, sending a rippling calm throughout my body. “You ok?”
Pushing up to a seated position slowly, he runs one hand across my back, rubbing soothing circles on my bare skin. His rough fingertips somehow manage to create this soft, warm, feather-light feeling that seeps into my skin, comforting my soul.
Pull it together. No one can see you like this. Especially not him.
“I’m f-” my voice cracks and I clear my throat, “I’m fine. Just, uh, a bad dream I guess. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I should, I should probably head out anyway.”
He presses a chaste kiss to my shoulder, and slowly trails his lips across to my collarbone, “I wish you’d just stay the night.”
His teeth graze my skin as his lips move, making me shiver, and I fight to contain the groan that claws its way up the back of my throat. Running his hand up the back of my neck, he laces his fingers in the short strands of my hair and pulls gently.
“Riot…” I growl, and I’m not sure if I’m issuing a warning, or if I’m begging.
Definitely the warning. I don’t beg.
“Tell me what the dream was about,” the vibrations from his murmurs travel from the column of my neck, straight down to my cock.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe, let alone think.
Riot has caught me in this weak, vulnerable moment, and I’m struggling to regain my composure. This isn’t me. I don’t fumble for the right words. I don’t talk about my past. I don’t relinquish control of any moment of my life.
“I - I…”
Fuck, since when do I stutter?
“It was nothing.”
My skin immediately misses the warmth of his lips when he pulls away. But when Riot crawls on top of me, straddling my bare thighs, and cups both of my cheeks between his large, tattooed hands, I feel settled again. Except I know he sees the pain swirling behind my eyes. And I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
“It didn’t sound like nothing,” he probes gently and I blink back a tear.
“It was nothing.”
“Okay,” he nods. His baby blues widen, and I know he doesn’t believe me, but that’s okay. He doesn’t have to. This isn’t what we do anyway. This is more. It’s more than I can handle. It was just supposed to be fun and games. He was a puzzle. A challenge. Something to sink my teeth into. He was never supposed to seep into my veins and infect my soul like this. Except the longer I’m with him, I no longer believe he’s the sickness. He’s the antidote I’ve always needed, but I don’t want to be cured.
I don’t deserve it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers, leaning forward, pulling my mouth to his. Our lips graze and while his breathing is even and controlled, in this moment, it’s my breathing that is frantic, my heart that’s lacking rhythm. The script is flipped and I’m not sure yet if I like it.
“I know I don’t. Because it’s nothing,” I murmur breathlessly.
“Nothing,” he whispers.
“Nothing,” I choke out.
“Then let me silence the nothing,” his tongue drags across the seam of my lips, parting them slowly, and I open up, letting him in. Groaning, I relish in the way his tongue glides against mine as he guides me back down to the bed. His rough stubble scrapes my chin as his lips move with mine, and it’s a feeling that I’ve begun to live for.
