Kiss Me

Part seventeen

Henley

The luxury of having him there to hold all night was one I wouldn’t ever take for granted. He was mine. My Aya. And I was his. So fucking his. I skated the thin line of being whipped. Whipped. What a joke. How many times had I given dudes shit for "being whipped?" I’d need to apologize, because whipped was the best place on earth. I bet Snapple was made in Whippedville.

He was home and safe and, most importantly, with me. Those were the other facts that quelled the rage I’d been feeling. Every wince. Every time he stared off into space. Every flinch. Every fucking time he said he didn’t remember felt like a hammer to the side of my head. I saw red more in those quiet days than I ever had before. But having him healthy and safe allowed my mind to wander.

I knew there was little I could do and that probably added to the helpless feeling of wanting justice I may never get. He claimed he couldn’t remember much, but I knew there were at least some things he did. I could read him like a book.

I think everyone suspected there were details he was hiding, but he wasn’t hiding them from us. It wasn’t about us. He was shielding himself from that night until he was strong enough to sort through the details. His mom, his friends, my family, they all felt like I did. It was a crazy way to get to know people, but that’s what we had. A common interest. Him.

But that motherfucking piece of shit. He didn’t have to remember. I have enough memories from that nightmare of a night for everyone. His lifeless limbs on the ground. Blood on the floor and soaked in his clothes. His face and lips busted. I was there. I saw him. I’d tried my damnedest not to look, but I had too.

When I finished the call with Matt, I heard Aya running water for a bath. I had a sneaky suspicion he was trying to seduce me. He thought he was ready. I was skeptical. I didn’t want him doing anything that could hurt his healing body. So I needed to keep a watchful eye. When you have a boyfriend as hot as mine, watching was easy. Even banged-up and bruised, he was beautiful. Now I had a few options. Succumb to the ornery flirt or walk away.

I knocked on the bathroom door. Fuck that walking-away shit. Those days were over for both of us. He was about to get a taste of what living with me would be like. Of course, I respected his privacy, but I knew a couple of things about this guy. He knew I was leaving for work soon and if he wanted a private bath, he would have waited. And on top of that, he liked seeing me naked just as much. "You can come in, Henley."

I was so on to him. "I don’t want to intrude," I chimed, playing the part of a red-feathered angel, knowing full well I wasn’t going to give in to everything he wanted. Not yet. I wasn’t sure if he was really ready, and I sure as hell wasn’t.

The thought of hurting him was abhorrent to me. I could wait. Barely. I had to be sure he was all right, not just physically, but emotionally. He was good at pretending. That was a fact I’d learned. He wasn’t going to use me as an escape. Not at first anyway. He was going to deal with whatever battle he had going on inside. I hoped he would let me help. I desperately wanted to, about as bad as I wanted to be buried inside him.

"You’re not. If you’d like, you can get in with me. There’s room for both of us." He used his sing-song voice, and I prepared myself for a hell of a fight with my self-control.

I turned the knob slowly, taking a few calming breaths. I hadn’t ever spent so much time with him and not, well, been fucking. It would be a challenge not to take what I wanted. What I craved. Especially when he was so willing. Upon opening the door, I found him leaning over the side of the big tub wearing nothing. He wasn’t fighting fair. Hello, old friend. "The water feels nice. Come here. I’ll help you undress," he offered. I changed my mind. Maybe I wouldn’t take what I needed. Maybe I’d give. Or rather, let him take. You know what I mean. He’d gone to all this work and everything. He brought out the big guns. I’d basically just be there.

I didn’t have to ravage him the way my balls were begging me to. I didn’t have to bend him over the counter and fuck him while I watched him come in front of me in the mirror that hung on the wall. I could just be his tool. His healing tool. A man can rationalize sex in about four seconds. That notion had begun to grow on me. Among other things.

He wanted a diversion. And, hell if I couldn't sympathize with wanting to feel good. I’d just have to be careful. Really careful. "I’m going to say this quickly. Clearly you’re taking hygiene to a whole new level, and who am I to stand in the way?" I asked as I took small measured steps near him. He sat on the edge of the tub. It was goddamn glorious. His body looked like a feast, and I was starving. I had to focus, before I lost my train of thought. I cleared my throat, because that’s what you do when you’re trying to jump-start words you’re only half-ass sure about saying. "I know what you’re doing."

His head tipped downward, but I caught it. Oh, baby. This isn’t a rejection. "Hear me out. I know you are in pain, in body and mind. Granted, I don't lure you in with soapy water and my A-game in sexual prowess, but I can’t deny that you being there, being with me when I needed that connection helped. I want to help you. I want to make you feel better and take all of it away. I can’t though and doing this won’t make any of it disappear. But maybe in some way it’ll prove I’m here. I’m all in, beautiful." Damn it, he had to know, but I wasn’t keen on guesswork anymore. Frankly, it was my pleasure having the opportunity to reassure him. He needed it, so I needed to give it to him.

His head fell to the side and he kissed my hand. I saw so much love in his eyes. It reduced my worry, if only for the moment, that he was still struggling. "I do need you," he admitted as he stood, never breaking eye contact. He spoke softly. "I want to feel a loving touch. I want to be swallowed whole by your goodness and tenderness. Henley, touch me so I know I’m not broken. I want this to be day one. I’m feeling better. I’m ready to start getting back to normal. Or at least start looking for our normal." Those moments, where he let me see his vulnerability, seared his name on my heart. Being able to help the one you love most, makes you stronger. It never dawned on me that it wasn’t the sex, a distraction, a high, but it wasn’t. It was intimacy he was longing for.

He leaned into me and, if I needed any more convincing, he provided it. His warm lips briefly met mine. His timid, yet purposeful, hands began to undress me. They slipped under my T-shirt and ran over my stomach and around to my back as he lifted it off. His fingers disappeared under the waist of my trousers and he pushed them down. His breathing was controlled and deep. I bent forward and pressed a kiss to his neck and a quiet moan filled the silence of the steamy bathroom as he moved to give me more of his skin.

His fingers laced with mine and he stepped into the bath. My arm around his waist insured he was steady. For a brief moment, I took stock of the fading bruises on his body. Yellow and green cloud-like shapes painted all over him. I swallowed emotion after emotion I felt. He wanted a good day. He wanted me. I’d give him anything I could. I’d offer my body for us to share when his needed mending. I’d touch him in a way that left no room for doubt that I’d always put him first. I couldn’t heal him, but for the rest of my life I’d love him through sickness and health.

"Hmm," I hummed when he sat gently on my lap. Such simple passion, but as quiet as it was intense, it satisfied.

"I love you," he whispered tenderly as he stroked my back. The bubbles had slowly disappeared over time while I regained a little piece of myself.

He was curled up against me. Both of us wanted what we always desired. To connect. Like before maybe, intense, mind blowing. But no, I don't think it will be like that, not yet. He needed gentle touches, slow movements. Things I can give him. "Lift up," I asked. He did. "Careful and slide down on me."

He gasped and gripped my neck and lifts slowly, so we didn't lose any water. "Ahh," he breathed and lowered down on me. The tightness took my breath away. But it felt so damn good. "I…"

"It's okay, I will move you." He nods. He didn't need to say anything. All he needed to do was just breath. "Aya," I couldn't hold my voice though. "I need you too."

"Yes," he whispered and I lifted him up my length and slowly back down. Over and over. Slow intense and so hot. I'm melting and coming undone each and every second.

"Aya, I...god…"

"You can come, so make me come."

Fucking hell! I will make him come undone at the seams. So I grabbed his aching dick and pumped with every push. He was trying to grind down. But he didn't need to. I was ready to burst the moment I laid eyes on his naked taunting body. "I'm going to come."

"Me too." And I did. It spread through me in waves. Making my spine tingle and toes curl. Then Aya followed seconds later. His arms draped over my shoulders, his head rests against mine. "I love you." Now, I just needed to ask this precious angel to marry me.