Chapter 24
Austin
I’m already rolling Luca to his back when his whispering starts. “I want to stop. I want to stop. I want to stop.”
“Hey, baby. We stopped. You’re okay. Look at me.”
“I want to stop. I want to stop.”
He’s damn near catatonic, and I don’t know what I should be doing. But I know two things for sure. One, he’s going to be covered when he comes back to himself, and two, he’s not going to be alone.
I work quickly to put his briefs back on him, then wrap him in the blanket and pull him down beside me.
I’m torn between touching him and leaving him alone, but I don’t know how else to bring him back to himself.
I brush my fingers over his cheek. “Hey, Luc. I’m here.
I’m so proud of you for saying to stop. I’ll always listen to you. I promise.”
He’s not talking now, but he’s also not doing much of anything else. Panic has taken the place of blood in my heart, pumping through my veins and weighing down my body. “Luca?” I still don’t get a response. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll be right here when you need me.”
After what feels like a lifetime, Luca chokes out a raspy “Austin” as his wide, terrified gray eyes settle on mine.
“Hey, baby,” I whisper, trying to swallow down the tears clogging my throat.
He whimpers, his face screwing up in pain. “Hold me.”
Without thinking, I wrap my arm around him and pull him on top of me. His chest shudders hard, his face disappearing into the crook of my neck. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
A hitch in his breath and a tremor running through his body are the only warnings I get before a heart-stopping sob rips from his chest. Another follows, then another. His ragged cries tear at my heart as I wrap an arm tightly around his back and hold him to me. “Oh, baby, you’re okay.”
He’s not actually okay, and I know it. And worse?
Now he does as well. He thinks he doesn’t want to be touched with love and tenderness because he’s afraid of what that means.
Callous touches and being treated like he’s nothing may seem like what he needs.
Like the things that will make this okay for him, but they aren’t.
What Luca needs is love. He needs soft caresses and tender kisses.
He needs warmth and care and to be taken care of.
I rub my hand over his back in slow circles, trying to calm him down.
It’s no use. He’s crying like I’ve never heard him cry before—each sob worse than the last, each gasping inhale harder for him to get in.
Luca has gone full steam ahead since he got here, and until this moment, I don’t think he’s let himself feel the full gravity of what he survived.
Warm tears drip onto my neck and run down my back, making a small wet spot under me on the sheets. I talk to him. I tell him he’s safe, he’s loved, and that he’s going to be okay. I keep talking until my voice gets hoarse and my throat is tight with emotion.
I hold him until his cries taper off and turn into gasping hiccups. Until he settles more with each second that ticks by, his body relaxing and slumping harder against mine.
Finally, he lets out a deep breath, then sniffles. “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, voice cracking.
“Look at me, Luc.”
He sniffles again, a weak, pathetic sound. “Not baby?” The fear in his voice is almost as heavy as the pain.
“Look at me, baby.”
With another gasping breath, Luca raises himself off my chest and stares down at me. My poor baby. His eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, cheeks splotchy, and nose raw and red. He doesn’t break my gaze, though, and I’m so awed by that strength and resilience that I could almost weep myself.
I don’t want to do this to him, but I have to.
I have to set the boundary. He’s a grown man, and I have no interest in controlling him, but I also have no interest in letting him self-destruct.
If he’s going to do that, it won’t be with me.
I’ll never, ever hurt him in that way. Even if it’s what he thinks he needs. “Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”
His eyes widen, shame coloring his features.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, and the lump I managed to swallow down earlier finds its way right back into my throat.
“I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll do better—I promise I will.
Just…” He drags in a shaky breath, panic lighting up his eyes.
“Just please, Austin. Please give me a chance to make it right.”
“Baby—”
“I’ll do anything. Anything you want. I’m sorry.”
“Luca—”
He sobs, and my chest caves in. “Please. Please. I’m sorry. You have to believe me. I’m so sorry.”
I sit up, somehow hooking his legs so they’re wrapped around my back, and pull him snugly against my body. “Shh, Luca. Stop talking for a second.”
“But, I—b-but I… Oh, God.”
His chest heaves. I sit back and cup his face. “Luca, look at me.”
“I’m sorry,” he mouths silently.
I clench my jaw tight, willing the tears filling my eyes to back off. “Baby, stop. Please stop. Listen to me.”
He opens his mouth to speak again, but all that comes out is a shaky noise. “Luca. Quit talking and listen.”
When his mouth snaps shut, I damn near send up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever power may be out there. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say slowly, carefully. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“But I—I freaked out. I said I wanted this, and I freaked out. I didn’t… I couldn’t—”
“Baby, hey, hey, calm down. You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s alright.”
Only I worry that may be the first lie I’ve ever told him.
“Really? You’re not mad that you didn’t get to fuck me?”
What? That’s what he’s worried about? That I’m mad he didn’t have sex with me? Fuck. Of course that’s it. I’m a fucking idiot.
I give him a gentle smile, working hard to make sure it reaches my eyes even as my heart cracks right down the middle.
Brushing my thumbs along his cheeks, I just sit there for a second, letting him see the truth in my eyes, letting him feel the truth in my touch.
“I’m not mad, I promise.” His shoulders slump.
“But I don’t ever want you to try to use sex to hurt yourself ever again. ”
“I wasn’t,” he defends quickly.
“Maybe not intentionally, baby, but you did. You tried to use impersonal sex to cover up what you really want, am I right?” He bites his bottom lip, eyes dancing with indecision.
“Tell me what you really want, Luca. Not what you think you should want. Not what your fears are telling you to want. Tell me what you really want.”
I’m not sure I’m going to get an answer, and that’s fine. Maybe he’s just not ready to be honest with himself, and if he’s not ready for that, he’s certainly not ready to be honest with me.
“I want to have sex,” he blurts out.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
I know him as well as I know myself. We’re two peas in a pod, two halves of the same whole, and I can’t believe it took me so fucking long to see it. But I do. I see it now. And because I see it now, I know he wants to say more; I can practically see the thoughts building, ready to spill out.
“I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head.
I slide a hand into his hair, cradling his head gently. “Tell me, baby.”
“I want soft,” he whispers so quietly I can barely hear him even though he’s only six inches away from me. “I want to be safe,” he says, a little louder this time.
He squeezes his eyes closed as the corners of his lips turn down into a frown.
“I can give you soft and safe,” I offer gently.
Pretty gray eyes meet mine. “You already do. I just need to figure out how to trust it.” I open my mouth to speak when he sighs heavily, so I close it.
“It’s like… every single interaction with Damien left me feeling shitty about myself.
Especially sex. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had enjoyable sex or even sex I’ve wanted?
” It’s clearly a rhetorical question because he plows on like he didn’t even ask it.
“And when we did have sex, there was nothing about it I liked. He didn’t care about what I wanted or what I didn’t want.
He didn’t care if I got off or, hell, if I even got hard. ”
He drops his gaze, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath he pulls in.
When his eyes find mine again, I’m struck by the vulnerability shining in their depths.
“I want to feel good, but I don’t know how to trust it.
There has been no good, Austin. Not for me.
Not like this. I—” He shakes his head. “I thought that if I just got it over with, then I could… I don’t know… not freak out about it.”
“That’s not gonna work, though, baby. You can’t heal unless you let yourself feel what you need to feel.”
“I know.” He lets out a sigh, then searches my face.
“I want to… Fuck, I think I—” He closes his eyes, his expression pained.
“I think I want to be taken care of. I don’t want to have to worry about what I’m doing or if it’s right or wrong or if you’re enjoying yourself.
I think I just need to trust that you’ll enjoy it because it’s me…
I don’t know—that probably doesn’t make any sense. ”
I think it makes plenty of sense. It’s also heartbreaking. I run my fingers through the dark strands of his hair. “I’ll enjoy being with you in any way, Luca.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, then opens his eyes. “How do you know?”
I don’t think words will matter. Not when he’s learned not to trust them. I’m sure that Damien filled his head with plenty of pretty words. In the end, the actions didn’t match, though. “I just do, Luc. It’s you and me. Of course I’ll enjoy it.”
“Can we try again?” Luca whispers.
I hesitate. “If we do this, we’re doing it my way. Not because I want to control you, but because I don’t want your view of what we’re sharing to be skewed. I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Distrust flashes in his eyes. It would be easy to let that hurt my feelings, but I can’t take it personally. “Okay,” he whispers.