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I should protest, but I don’t. We can’t get enough of each other because we never seem to reach deep enough. We both need to get to that raw spot inside where we can join at the basest of levels. I’m sweating with desire, panting, wanting nothing more than to impale myself on that massive, steel-hard dick. I knot my fingers in his hair, tugging him back. I’m not strong enough to move him a single inch, but he gets the message, and slows down.
“We can’t get there from here,” I pant, my whole body on fire. “If we do this, there will only be more desperation.”
His jaw clenches, the contours of his face brutal shadows in the dim light. When he lifts his weight off the mattress, it feels like I’ve just been robbed. Of warmth, of connection, and all I want to do is grab onto the tether that still binds us together.
“I should go,” he whispers.
“Please, stay,” I murmur. “Let’s just not, you know.”
He lets out a raspy laugh that would raise the goosebumps on a ghost in the night.
“I don’t think you realize just how close I am to raping you.” A shiver runs through me at the dark sound of those words.
“It wouldn’t be rape,” I say. He looks sideways at me. I lick my lips before I continue, both my heart and my core pounding. “I want it as badly as you do, you know that. It’s just not what we need right now, it won’t solve our problems.” I draw closer to him and rest my head on his back, right between his shoulder blades, planting a loving kiss on his skin.
I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, I’m merely following my instincts. A drive to soothe. To love.
“Can you feel them?” I whisper as I trace one of his scars with my lips.
He nods, the city lights playing in his thick dark hair. “The nerves are supposed to be dead but they come to life under your touch.” He lets out a short laugh. “And I don’t even believe in magic.”
Yet nothing else seems to explain how I accessed the memory of his last dream, and how he accessed my emotions as a child.
I keep kissing him and drawing him down into bed with me. When I press my body to his, wishing he’d just disentangle his arms from around himself and wrap them around me, he stiffens more.
“If that happens,” he whispers, his hot breath against my face, “I won’t be able to hold back. I’ll end up pinning you down and ramming my cock so deep inside you, you won’t know where you end and I begin.”
I bite hard into my lip. “Let’s just lie here with each other,” I whisper. “Let us just feel each other.”
My legs slowly tangle with his, but he won’t put his arms around me. He keeps them closed off around himself, using them as a barrier between us. We don’t talk again. We just keep looking at each other, exploring each other’s every feature, breathing in each other’s air. The feeling that I’m sharing a cage with a wild animal that’s barely keeping itself on a leash will probably never fade completely, and it will take a long time for me to grow accustomed to it, but I suppose this is the next best thing. This silence, this growing intimacy, they slowly suck me in, even though his raging erection doesn’t disappear. A reminder that things could go off the rails at any moment.
Part of me hopes that he’ll fall asleep first, allowing me to take in each scar, each line, and every plane of his face. I crave to experience him completely relaxed. But it’s me who ends up defeated by the exhaustion weighing on my eyelids. Little by little, they droop until I give in. Zayne remains with me even as I drift into a dream, this time into a green meadow, the glass blades swaying in a soft breeze.
We’re hand in hand, two children running towards the sea. The sunlight blinds me to his face, and it starts to grow colder. The breeze turns harsher, whipping my hair across my face as clouds gather in the sky. His crystalline laugh darkens, becomes malicious, but I tangle my fingers with his to keep him close. Yet I can’t get a single glimpse of him through the strands of hair whipping across my face. I keep pushing them away, but every time a strand is removed, another one replaces it, blocking him from sight. The wind grows harsher, his fingers tugging away from mine. It’s harder to hold on by the second until a whirlwind rips us apart, and I sit up with a cry.
***
Zayne
IT’S BEEN OVER A WEEK since I first slipped into Sirenna’s room, seeking her closeness like a dog. As I cracked her door open, I told myself it would be just this once. Just until I understood the nature of our strange connection.
I found what I was looking for.
And now part of me wishes I hadn’t.
It started while I watched her thrash and toss in her bed next to me. I wanted to interfere with her nightmare, to gather her in my arms and keep her close, make her see that she was safe and nothing could touch her while I breathed. But, captive inside her dream, the features of her faces morphed into an expression that I recognized.
It punched into my gut like a hammer. I spent the entire night remembering and thinking about the teddy slumped in the corner of an abandoned cot. In order to survive, I had to shut out everything that ever made me feel like there was an alternative to my misery.
But now that the past is coming back to me, I can’t share it with Sirenna. Her entire world would collapse, and she might turn to drinking again to numb the sense of betrayal. But the decision is self-serving, too. With the mystery lifted, she’d just disentangle and want nothing to do with me. I’d be her only link to a past she doesn’t want to remember.
At first, I hoped that having solved the mystery would help things. That maybe the sexual craving would lessen, but it only got fucking worse. Now, she’s a drug. But she’s seeking something I know she’ll never find, and it’s unfair of me to imprison her like this. Yet it’s the only way to keep her.
To hear her whisper sweet words into my ear, rendering me fucking putty in her hands. I’d rather die than lose her. Every time she falls asleep in my arms, our legs tangled with each other, my erection throbs between us with a desperate need. Demanding that we make our union physical.
But I can’t do that, not with my needs being the monstrosity that they are.
I imagine all kinds of ways in which I want her to torture me while she breathes softly against my chest. It would be so easy to pin her down and push my cock forcefully inside her. She’d probably welcome it, too. I can smell her arousal, goose bumps rising on her skin in the wake of my fingers as I stroke her, little moans escaping her lips even as she sleeps. But there’s another yearning in my chest that wrestles with the need to possess her, and that is the need to protect her.
