Page 82 of Dream a Little Dream

But knowing didn’t stop him.

He pushed open the door as quietly as he could, but still Aaron shot up from the covers, rubbing his face with the back of his hand, as if he’d been defending himself in the dark for years. The sight alone punched the air from Kenny’s lungs. But it was his voice, raw and defiant through the sniffles, that had Kenny making the biggest decision of his life.

“Fuck off, I’m not crying.”

The lie, sharp and brittle, shattered the last fragile thread of Kenny’s resolve. He said nothing as he stepped inside the room,unbuttoning his shirt and piece by piece with his eyes never leaving Aaron’s, he removed his clothes. His protectivearmour. Then, when down to his underwear, he slipped beneath the covers without asking permission and reached for him, dragging him to his chest, wrapping his arms around his trembling body. Aaron resisted for a second, remnants of pride still there and difficult to shed, but then, like a dam breaking, Aaron collapsed into him. The floodgates open.

And there, in Kenny’s arms, Aaron cried.

Kenny held him, taking every tear for himself. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, only that each second felt heavier than the last.

Then, soft and sweet, he settled his lips on Aaron’s temple. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Aaron didn’t respond with words. Kenny didn’t expect him to. But the way his body softened against his, he knew. Kenny was the only thing Aaron had to hold onto. The only thing stopping him from falling off the world.

And in a way that terrified Kenny, Aaron was now his.

Chapter eighteen

Maneater

Aaron woke a sweaty, disgusting mess.

Not in a good way. More reminiscent of the first few weeks when he’d been in foster care. When he’d used to cry all night. Howl.Wail. The man of the couple who’d taken him in used to beat him until he shut up. Aaron couldn’t remember the man’s name, only the sounds of his grunts as he struck Aaron’s face. The weight of his body on him as he pummelled him into submission. After that, he’d learned to cry silently. A survival skill. Eventually, though, the tears dried up, and he believed he’d never feel again.

Until last night, that was.

When Dr Kenneth Lyons, who now knew exactly who he was and where he came from, had held him and let him break.

He stirred, checking the other side of the bed. Kenny wasn’t there. Aaron’s heart sank, but Kenny’s clothes still littered thefloor, and his pillow had the distinctive dip where his head had lain, the sheets beside him still warm.

Aaron smiled.

The toilet flushed and, through the gap in the bedroom door, Aaron saw him emerge from the bathroom, scratching the dark beard on his jaw. Aaron could still feel the remnants of that rough and rasping stubble on his skin. And how his wild, tousled, shoulder length hair tickled his face when he’d kissed him. But what had Aaron frozen, straining his neck to see over his shoulder, was Kenny’s body, bare except for boxers. He’d felt Kenny’s chest beneath his cheek last night, felt the dark hair scattered across his torso and the strength in his legs as they’d tangled together under the sheets. But now, seeing him like this, near-naked and exposed, Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away. Kenny was exquisite. Every inch of him. Masculine and mature. Mysterious yet unguarded.

Aaron’s heart leapt.

Foolishly.

Kenny met his gaze through the gap and there was an all-consuming moment where the air turned electric. Aaron’s pulse hadn’t ever raced so fast and his dick throbbed in a perfect display of Pavlovian conditioning.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready,” Kenny said, then disappeared.

Aaron settled back under the duvet, his arousal mingling with the sudden emptiness in the bed beside him. He contemplated whether to take care of himself right there. Leave something behind for Kenny to find. He didn’t. He just lay there long enough for the dark thoughts to creep in and it did the trick of enabling his dick to wilt so he could get up, dress, find his way to the bathroom to wash, then trundle downstairs.

Kenny was in the kitchen, tangled hair in front of his face, glasses on, huddled over an open laptop on the counter,coffee machine gurgling behind him. Aaron had a sudden and stark realisation of how much he fancied the fuck out of him. Whatever persona he portrayed. When suited for work with glasses and his hair scraped back. Or when smart-casual with contacts in and his hair free flowing. And when he was like this, just out of bed in sweats, no top and bare feet. Aaron’s pulse raced as Kenny’s eyes tracked him taking up the usual stool at the breakfast bar.

“Paracetamol.” Kenny nodded to the pint of water and two pills laid out on the counter in front of him. “You want tea?”

“Sure.” Aaron swallowed the tablets, downing some water.

“Toast?”

“You have a thing about feeding me.”

“I’m making some for myself. It’s rude not to offer.”

“You ain’t lived my life.”

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