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"Okay." I lead him to the bed, rubbing him down a bit more - and ignoring the erection that's trying to poke through - before removing his towel and quickly tucking him under the warm, thick blankets. There’s still way too much tequila in his system for me to even consider doing something with that.
He blinks up at me as I strip down to my underwear, seeming to struggle every time he needs to reopen his eyes.
"Sleepy boy," I murmur, unable to stop it from sounding disgustingly fond.
He hums and nods, cheeks turning a delicious pink. What would he do if I licked them? Or gave them a little nibble?
I climb into bed, turning the light off before discreetly adjusting my own hard cock. He turns toward me a moment later, tucking himself against my chest, David trapped between our stomachs. His fingers pulse where they rest on my skin, almost like he's checking to make sure I'm really there. I kiss the top of his head and smile.
"Jake?"
"Hmm?"
"Y-you know how in the movies and the books and stuff they say cheesy things about not needing a hero? Like I didn't save you, you saved yourself? It's supposed to be empowering or whatever. You know?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm so tired," he whispers, his voice a trembling mess of grief and fear. "I can't save myself. I don't - I don't think I want to. Can you do it? Please? Will you save me, Jake?"
"Yes." A million times yes. Easiest fucking decision of my life. "I'd be honored to save you, baby boy."
He makes a soft, sweet little sound and burrows closer to me. "Promise?"
"I promise." I pull the blanket tighter around us, trying to somehow brace us against the rest of the world. "But I need something from you. Can you do that? Give me one thing and I'll take care of the rest?"
"Y-yeah."
"Come back to the safehouse. Let me take care of you."
He sighs, but it sounds full of relief. "Okay."
He makes me wait 3 days, wanting to talk to Carter first. I respect that, but it's fucking hell. I spend every waking moment texting him or talking to him on the phone, any break in contact making me panic until I hear from him again. I spend every night on video with him, hating the sight of him in that nest on the floor but unable to look away even after he's managed to fall asleep.
By the time he comes to the safehouse, I'm a useless, exhausted mess. And he hasn't even told Carter the truth yet, coming to the safehouse under the ruse of wanting to attend group and individual therapy in person like they were always supposed to do.
They come Friday night since the next group therapy is Saturday morning, Carter completely oblivious to how bad off his best friend is as he heads straight for Travis.
"Are you mad?" Casey whispers, the two of us standing back as Travis and Carter fumble through a conversation teeming with desire and tension.
"No, little one. I'm not mad." I run my hand through his hair, offering him my best attempt at a smile. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. You're coming back, right?"
"I am. I have my stuff packed in the trunk. I'm going to tell him tomorrow. In group therapy. I need… help. Support from the others."
I nod, completely understanding. "And I'll be there right after. He'll understand, little one. He loves you. He wants you to heal too."
"I know." He glances at our friends before stepping closer and asking, "Can we sleep together tonight?"
"I'd like that. I'll give you some time with your friends after dinner, but you can come to my room whenever you're ready, okay?"
He lights up.
And I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is about this moment, about this smile - but I realize it. All at once, I realize it. I’m not just a goner for him. I’m in love.
Fuck.
When the fuck did I let myself cross the one line I drew before buying him?
And what the fuck do I do now?
