Page 25

CHAPTER 25

NATE

All night, I toss and turn, wracked by nightmares. They never go away, no matter how hard I try to dull them with alcohol and sex.

I’m in my childhood bedroom, curled up on my side. The music from downstairs floats up to the second floor, but I can’t make out the words. I hear people talking, muffled voices, and other strange noises.

Whimpering?

Is someone hurt?

I roll onto my back as my bedroom door opens. A golden glow from the hallway lighting filters into the dark space. Heels tap on the hardwood floor, and I smell vanilla as she moves closer to the bed.

She’s here.

Again.

I don’t like it when she wakes me up. Or when she slips off her heels and gets into bed with me.

“Hey, my sweet boy,” she whispers, her lips hovering above mine.

I’m almost six feet tall and built for my age, but that doesn’t make it okay for her to do this. Just because I look like a man doesn’t mean I am one.

I swallow to clear the lump in my throat, close my eyes, and pretend to sleep.

She doesn’t care.

She never does.

My eyes snap open to darkness. Heart racing a mile a minute, I sit up, clutching my chest.

Fuck .

Scanning the space, I see four different walls. And no sign of her .

Thank God.

Another dream.

A memory.

Sweat covers every inch of my bare skin. Even naked, I feel like clothes are sticking to me. Grabbing a bath towel from the back of my door, I wipe my face and take a few deep breaths. Then, I dry the rest of my body and slip into a pair of boxer briefs.

River hates it when I get into bed with him naked. And I already know that’s where I’m going.

To him .

To the only place I feel safe.

I crack open his door, hear him softly breathing, and enter his room. Until we moved to Kingston University, we shared the same bedroom.

I miss it.

Moonlight creeps in through the open blinds. River sleeps on his side, naked and with his arm draped over his eyes. In this light, I see his dark tattoos perfectly.

Over his heart, there are two crisscrossed hockey sticks with the number twenty-three between them. C'est la vie is written in script over the right side of his chest, a few inches above his nipple.

River’s dad is French Canadian and taught him English and French. The words translate to that’s life , as in some things you can’t change.

Do the words have anything to do with us?

He got stuck rooming with me at boarding school, and I have made his life miserable ever since. It’s my fault he’s never gone on a date. If he’d never met me, his life would be perfect. Because I am fucked up, River has been denied any chance at normalcy, which only makes me hate myself more.

I’m such a selfish asshole.

He should leave me.

Why is he even my friend?

I don’t deserve River.

I stare at his sexy body and trace my fingers over the dark vines that curl around his shoulder and down his right arm. On his forearm, he has a black infinity symbol to match mine. We got it in the same place to symbolize our never-ending bond.

Only death could keep me from River. And even then, if he were to die first, I would throw myself in the grave with him.

He’s my forever.

As the mattress dips, he groans. I drop a sheet over the lower half of his body because he’s naked. Just seeing exposed flesh makes me think about sex.

His abs are so tight they look hand-sculpted. And the tiny patch of hair below his belly button that leads to…

Stop it, Nate!

I don’t even like men.

Never in my life have I thought another guy was hot. Yet, my mind keeps noticing River’s body. How he smells. How his cum tastes.

Fuck .

This is bad.

I’ve always wondered when my addiction would take a horrible turn. I’m already on the verge of losing River if I don’t get my shit together.

Laying my head on the pillow beside his, I turn to face him. Looking at him helps soothe my nerves. I watch his chest rise and fall. Notice how his full lips part as he breathes softly. He doesn’t snore, which is nice. It makes it easier for me to close my eyes and zone out.

This will go away soon.

River will leave you .

No one loves you .

You’re unlovable .

Tears prick my eyes at the thought of River signing an NHL contract. What if he gets picked by the Toronto Maple Leafs?

Jesus .

I can’t even imagine being that far from him. Most of River’s family lives in Quebec. He could move to Canada and never come back.

We’ve had a good run, ten years of friendship. But I know he needs to go. River was born to be a star like his father. He’s not supposed to stay behind and take care of me.

I cover his hand with mine and intertwine our fingers, needing to feel closer to him. According to Dr. Swanson, this is intimacy. What I share with River goes beyond the normal limits of friendship.

“Nate,” River whispers.

His eyes are closed, but he must have felt my weight shift the mattress or my fingers linked with his.

“Nate,” he says again, and one green eye opens. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes my hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He licks his chapped lips. “Think you can go back to sleep?”

His lashes flutter, and I can see he’s fighting to stay awake for me.

“Yes,” I lie, even though my pulse is pounding in my ears and my heart is racing.

I hate that my shitty life keeps him up at night. River is so selfless that he would give up anything for me. He’s already given too much and needs to be at his best for our next game.

“Are you sure?”

No .

“Yes.”

He pats his chest, seeing through my bullshit, knowing what I need. “Come here.”

Like we’re lovers, he coaxes me closer with the invitation. The second my head hits his chest and I hear the steady beat of his heart, I close my eyes.

“You’re safe, Nate.” River curls his arm around me, his hand on my upper back. “I know today was hard. But we will get through it together. I promise.”

That’s all I need to hear before I drift to another place without a dream or nightmare.

* * *

Something warm and soft but also a little hard touches my cheek. I lean into it to experience the feeling more. A musky scent and clean linen fills my nostrils. I burrow my nose into another soft space.

“Nate?”

I open my eyes to find my arm draped over a man’s bare, muscled chest. My nose shoved into the crook of his neck. And my lips on his skin. Then, I see the tattoo above his right nipple.

C'est la vie.

River.

Lifting my head, I stare into his tired green eyes. They’re glassy and hooded, a sign he didn’t sleep well because of me.

“Did I keep you up with my nightmares?”

He shakes his head. “No, you slept through the night.”

Of course, he didn’t answer my question. Knowing River, he stayed up and worried about me. I rarely dream in his bed. River keeps the nightmares away.

I inch my hand lower and accidentally graze his cock. It’s hard, tenting the sheet covering us.

“Morning wood,” he says, looking mortified, his cheeks flushed.

Just seeing the outline of his hard dick makes me think about sex. I want to make another porno for him just to listen to him come from my side of the wall while I get off to his moans.

Fuck, fuck, fuck .

I’m hard.

Painfully so.

Like clockwork, I wake up every morning with an erection. Sometimes, several times a night. I know it’s probably because I have to piss… or had a filthy dream. But being hard always leads to me watching porn, and that usually ends with wanting the real thing.

“Nate, no.” River clutches my wrist as I touch my cock. “No sex today.”

“Dr. Swanson said I can jerk off,” I say, tossing the covers off my legs.

River tackles me to the mattress. When I try to get up, he pins me down with his muscular thighs, his big cock flush with my abs.

Make it fucking stop .

I think he’s even harder now… and so am I. As if that were even fucking possible.

“If you don’t listen to me, then you need to find a Sex Addicts Annonymous meeting and get a sponsor.”

“Fuck that. I’m not going to a meeting and telling strangers about my life.”

He holds his weight down on me, all two hundred pounds of muscle and cock. River leans forward, so close our lips could touch.

Is he going to kiss me?

Would I let him?

Maybe if he lets me jerk off…

“Stop it,” he bites out, his green eyes intense and scary. “You haven’t even made it one day.”

I like this side of River.

Women never put up a fight when I suggest we get rough. They embrace it. Now that the tables are turned, I can see why they enjoy it.

I hated when the She-Devil dominated me, which is why I’m always in control with women. But I want River to claim me.

To create some friction, I grip his hips and shove him lower until our cocks touch. His eyes widen, and those full lips part for me. River wants to say something, yet he lets me rock my hips, allowing me to rub our bodies together.

My boxer briefs are the only thing separating us. Bet he didn’t think this through when he jumped me like a dirty whore looking for a ride. And so that’s what I let him do.

“Nate,” he whispers, eyes half-closed. “Fuck. Stop it.”

“You can stop me at any time.”

Guiding his body over mine, he does nothing to prevent our dicks from brushing in the most delicious way.

I need this.

I need him .

This isn’t even sexual. My need to be one with him consumes me and drags me down a never-ending spiral of doom and destruction.

I glance down at where our bodies join, then back up to his face. “You don’t want to stop, do you?”

Instead of looking at me, he closes his eyes and moans.

Fuck, that’s hot .

I love the sounds he makes when he comes.

River cages me with his big body, resting his elbows on each side of my head and moving his hips like a greedy little slut desperate for my cock.

His head drops to my shoulder, and his lips are on my neck. He sticks out his tongue and wets my skin, purring in my ear.

“ Tu es à moi ,” he whispers, and I wish I had paid attention in French class.

I’d write it down to Google later, but my dick is the only hard thing near me. And the last I checked, it doesn’t make for a great writing instrument. Although, who knows, my dick has been known to perform miracles.

I peek up at River when he lifts his head, and our eyes meet. “Say that again.”

He looks confused and then says, “ Tu es à moi?”

I couldn’t even begin to spell the words because I sucked at French. None of the words sound anything like they are written. Even with a fluent tutor, I still couldn’t understand what River was saying. And until now, I didn’t care. Now, I need to know what he muttered in the heat of the moment.

I nod. “What does it mean?”

Blush creeps up his neck, and he buries his face in my neck. “Whatever you want it to.”

I want it to mean you love me. I want it to mean you will never leave me. I want it to mean we can stay like this forever, our hearts beating as one. And I wish I had the nerve to say all this to you.

I etch my fingers into his tight ass, enjoying how firm he is in my hands. “Ah, fuck. Yes. Come for me.”

As River’s cum spills onto my abdomen, I cum in my boxers. Sticky and sweaty, we stay like this for a second. It takes a solid minute before River’s trance breaks and reality sets in for him.

“Oh god,” he mutters and slides off me. “What did we just do?” River curls his knees into his chest and tugs at the ends of his dark brown hair. “I promised to help you and?—”

“Hey.” I grab his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not, Nate!” River has tears in his eyes. “I told Dr. Swanson I would keep you in line, and we just… What the fuck did we do? I’m a terrible influence.”

“If anyone is a bad influence, it’s me. And it was nothing. Just two friends getting off.”

“With each other,” he points out. “That’s not fucking normal, Nate.”

“Is this any different than when I ask you to jerk me off?”

River hops out of bed. “No, it was so much worse. I can’t believe you! Why do you keep putting me in this position? You fucking promised to try!”

I toss my legs over the side of the bed, still getting my bearings from that orgasm. “Dr. Swanson said I can come once a day.”

He wraps a towel around his waist, shaking his head. “Not with me. With your hand.”

Furious, River flings open the door, disappearing into the hallway before we can finish our discussion. I don’t go after him. River needs his space to work out his feelings. And I’m left with the nagging thought that I ruined our friendship forever. This time, I might have lost him for good.