Page 42 of Asher's Answer
Finally rolling into my embrace, his head comes to rest on my shoulder. He’s not crying, but I can feel his shoulders trembling. Running my hand through his soft curls, I try to soothe us both. “Are we going to talk about it?”
He shakes his head.
In those early days, I never pushed. But this feels bigger somehow. He apologized for no reason. I hate that. Earlier today, I thought that we’d be able to get through this, but maybe it’s not the case.
I hate that my being injured has put limitations on our relationship. I hate that he no longer feels like he can wake me up when he has a bad dream. I hate that my fears of not being able to be the Daddy he needs appear to be coming true.
No. No, I refuse to accept that. I need to man up and force the issue, even if it means I’m the one who has to be vulnerable first right now.
With a shaky inhale, I start talking. “I can’t lose you, Ash. I know that things are going to suck for a while, that I can’t do all the Daddy things-”
His body stiffens and he sounds horrified. “What? No, I don’t care about-”
“I know,” I assure him, “but…you had a nightmare, baby. And you pulled away instead of coming to me and…” My voice cracks and Ash’s hold on me tightens. After a moment, when I feel calm enough, I try to get to the point. “I mightn’t be able to do all the Daddy things, baby, but I’m still your Daddy and I’ll never not be here to comfort you. I need to be able to do that, Asher.I need to. Please don’t hold back like that.”
The words are clumsy and I’m not sure that I’m even making any sense, but Ash rubs his face into my chest and sniffles, “You need your rest. You wereshot, Charlie. Twice!”
It feels like all I’ve done since it happened is rest, but that’s not what I focus on. “Is…is that what your nightmare was about?” I don’t know why I ask. Ash has always been adamant that he can’t remember the details of his dreams, only the way they make him feel. Tonight has felt different to all the other times, though.
“That’s what they’ve all been about.” His reply is quiet, but it seems to echo in the silence of the room. “Ever since it happened. I can’t…”Ash clears his throat. “I know you’re okay. Rationally, I know it. But I just keep thinking…I almost lost you. It feels like I only just found you and then you were almost gone.”
We’ve spoken about this before and there’s nothing either of us can do to resolve these lingering fears. I just hold him closer, kissing the top of his head, and acknowledge the truth in them. “I know, baby. I know. But I’m still here, and I need you to not lock me out, okay? You said it earlier, when the guys were here: we are going to get through this. Together.”
I don’t know which of us I’m most trying to convince.
Chapter Nineteen – Asher
The first few weeks of Charlie’s recovery are rough. He gets easily frustrated when simple tasks evade him because he can’t balance without at least one crutch, or when he can’t get anywhere as quickly as he’d like. He does his best not to lose his temper, but I’ve still felt like I’ve been walking on eggshells around him. When his stitches come out and he’s allowed to start walking around with a walking stick instead of crutches, though, a little of his frustration ebbs away.
My little time has been spent much the same way as it was with Ted. I’ve been getting myself dressed and taking showers instead of baths. I know it has been frustrating Daddy, but I won’t risk his recovery.
Daddy and I have been playing games at the dining table -race cars, coloring, even some basic jigsaw puzzles- because he can’t kneel on the floor yet. I’ve been having my bottles and snuggling in bed with him at night, but he needs to sleep on his back and I’m afraid of bumping his leg, so we’re sleeping on opposite sides of the king size mattress and the distance feels like a football field between us.
That said, if I’m being thankful for small mercies, having him with me seems to have staved off the nightmares again, but I desperately miss being wrapped in his arms during the night.
In terms of sex, hand jobs and blowjobs have been the order of the day. Not that either of us is complaining, but I know Charlie misses fucking me as badly as I miss him inside me. The day his physical therapist casually mentions thatcertain positionsshould be fine as long as Charlie’s careful, we tumble into bed together as soon as we get home from the appointment. I couldn’t even bring myself to be embarrassed that the doctor had raised the issue at all. I was too thankful. Too relieved.
Too horny.
We’re both hard and aching as we kiss with an intensity that takes my breath away. To this point, we have been gentle and cautious -Charlie’s chest and shoulder are also recovering from bullet wounds- but today all bets are off.
I’m giddy as Charlie’s hands pull my clothes off roughly. His need makes me burn hotter for him, makes my dick dribble precum and jerk within the confines of my training pants. He’s on his back on the mattress and I’m on my knees, leaning over him. His eyes are shining with myriad emotions. I can see his arousal, his love, his relief…and it’s all intoxicating.
“Do you want me big or little?” I ask him, because honestly, I’m teetering on the edge of either right now. This is the closest we have felt tousin a long time, and I want everything with him.
He considers it for a moment, and I can see that he wants it all just as badly as I do. “Big,” he eventually decides. His strong hands sweep over the muscles of my back, down to my hips to try and tug my undone pants -and also my underwear- down my thighs.
With reluctance, I climb off the bed and push them down, hopping as my left foot gets caught in my underwear. We both laugh. I pause to remove the last of my clothes and then crawl back over my man. He’s trimmed his beard back again to that length that’s just a touch longer than stubble and I lean back over him, nuzzling his jaw before our lips reconnect.
Then I carefully unbutton his shirt, helping it over his injured shoulder and he tugs it off the other side when I’m done. He balls it up and sends it sailing across the room. I shuffle down the mattress and tuck my fingers into the waistband of the sweatpants he’s taken to wearing because they are loose fitting and don’t put unnecessary pressure on his injury. He plants both feet on the bed, bearing most of his weight on his left leg, and lifts his hips so I can pull the pants and his boxer briefs down and off.
I toss them over the edge of the mattress and then stretch myself out next to him, pressing my naked body against his. This time when we kiss, it’s sweeter.
“Hi,” I say softly, smiling down at him. He’s rolled to face me, resting on his left side, and I gasp as our cocks rub against each other.
“Hey,” he responds, equally reverent.
“Did you want to just do this?” I ask him on a whisper, rocking my hips, our precum slicking the connection between us. “Or did you want me to ride you?”
