Unobtainable (37 page)

“Roll over baby, I’m going to eat you alive,” I growled, playfully slapping his hip. “On your knees, spread those thighs wide.”

“I need you inside me,” Dyson said, as he quickly rolled over and rose to his knees. “It’s been so long.”

“All in good time,” I whispered, breathless as my stare fell on the crack of Dyson’s ass.

My hands clamped onto each cheek of his ass with a noisy thwack that rang throughout the room. I spread his cheeks, focusing on his tightly puckered hole. I sucked my thumb, making sure it was nice and wet then pressed into his opening. Dyson groaned, pushing back against my hand, his breathing becoming strained with each moan he made.

I leaned forward and nipped his ass with my teeth, then sucked his skin between my lips, leaving a bright purple love bite on his tender white flesh. I chuckled as he brought back his hand and touched the fresh hickey I bestowed upon him.

My tongue lapped greedily at his ring, licking and swirling as Dyson grunted and arched his back. I fucked him with the tip of my tongue, poking fast and deep the way I knew he liked it. I lingered because I enjoyed the way Dyson reacted while I devoured his delicious ass, with soft moans and groans. He made me want to take my time, he made me want to make it last.

“Harley,” Dyson panted, as he stroked himself.

A long string of pre-cum hung from Dyson to the bedspread. I reached around his hip and took over stroking as I thumbed the head of his cock, I knew how much he loved that. I trailed my tongue along his spine and chuckled when he shivered under me. I loved that I had the ability to make him tremble.

I donned a condom since the doctor told us Dyson’s immune system was at risk while taking antibiotics, and soaked us with lube in record time. I was ready to be buried in him, and he was noticeably ready for me.

My lips lightly brushed the crest of Dyson’s ear as I spoke, “Love me?”

“You know I do,” Dyson panted.

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, only you.”

Maneuvering Dyson onto his side, he lifted his leg as I spooned against his back, stroking the head of my cock along the crack of his ass, pressing my head to his hole. He was writhing, his hips shoving against me, eager for my entry. His arm came back, wrapping around the nape of my neck as his mouth found mine, our tongues smashing together wildly.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how bad you need me inside of you,” I longed to hear his words.

“Make love to me, I want you more than anything,” Dyson whispered. “I need you more than the air I breathe or the water I drink. I need to feel you deep inside me, fill me up and let me know I’m alive.”

Slowly, I sank into Dyson, his brows knitting together as he cried out because I hadn’t prepared him.

~Dyson~

The slow sting of Harley’s cock as he stretched me, pushing into my tight hole was sweet agony. I cried out holding my hand in the air waiting for Harley to take hold, while he pushed in all the way and crushed his balls against my rear end. His fingers finally clamped around mine, I held our hands tight to my chest.

My heart was racing, bursting with love like I had never known before. If this was the only love I would ever be blessed with, then my life was complete.

“I love you, Harley,” I gasped, as he pulled back and slammed into me.

“Love…fuck…you too!” he roared.

Harley’s other hand grasped my hip as he thrust into me, letting out a loud grunt each time he hit home, I grinned knowing he was lost in me. I was the reason he was struggling for breath, that pearls of perspiration were making his skin glow and that I was losing feeling in the fingers of the hand he held so tight.

I lost all track of time as Harley beat into me, his rhythm steady, growing faster and faster with abandoned desperation.

His breathing was arduous, his voice raspy as he cried out, “I’m going to cum.”

I stroked myself feverishly to catch up, I wanted to cum while he was still hard and plunging into me.

“Wait for me, I’m not there yet,” I begged.

“Too late!” Harley roared as he came, his teeth nipping at my shoulder.

Swiftly, he pulled from me, discarding his condom and rolling me onto my back. He growled as he fisted my cock and stroked me with eagerness. He had a wicked smile on his face as my breath hitched and my body started to tremble.

“That’s it, tremble for me,” he chuckled, watching my abs contract, my body jerk as I came close to ejaculation.

“I’m going to enjoy every drop of you,” he told me, before his mouth closed over my pulsating cock.

A tingle raced along my spine, my legs started to shake and my toes curled as my hot jizz shot into Harley’s waiting mouth. He eagerly swallowed all that I had and stroked me as if he were waiting for more.

He climbed on top of me and held my stare, both of us panting and completely spent. Harley kissed my lips tenderly and then nestled into my side, closing his eyes.

“This feels like home,” I sighed.

“Because you’re home in my arms where you should be, where you’re going to stay,” Harley said, with a breathy whisper into my ear, his warm breath heating me.

“Home.”

Sleep took us away.

~Harley~

Doctor Joyce Kravitz, at the Academy of Medicine, came highly recommended and set up an immediate appointment for both Dyson and I on Tuesday morning.

Dyson put his hand on my knee, yielding the tremor as my knee vibrated violently, I wasn’t ready for this. But I was, I needed help so I could concentrate on my marriage and give my all to Dyson, unshielded.

Our wait was short, five minutes maximum, which was long enough in my opinion.

“Mr. Cooper,” the Doctor greeted us with a stern professional confidence, and to my relief, a smile that was warm and caring. “And you must be Mr. Michaels, it’s nice to meet you both. Come on in and make yourselves at home.”

I was expecting a conventionally thought shrinks room, with a thinking couch like you saw in the therapist’s offices in movies. Instead, we stepped into a cozy little room that resembled a cottage den. There was a roaring fireplace surrounded by four large overstuffed chairs with a round ottoman style coffee table in the center. Immediately I was put at ease.

“Normally, I would insist on seeing each of you individually before seeing you as a couple, but after talking to you Mr. Cooper, I understand your urgency.”

“Please call my Harley.”

“You can call me Dyson.”

I looked to Dyson and smiled. His support was huge in my eyes, I treasured him more than he would ever know.

“I would like
you
to start, Harley,” she asked. “Tell me what brought you here today?”

“My nightmares,” I ran my hand through my hair, I could feel myself tensing up.

“Harley, you need to relax and remember that no one is here to judge you. You should feel free to say anything. I want you to get comfortable, remove your jacket and sit the way you would when you’re at home together.”

I shrugged my jacket off and took Dyson’s hand in mine, once I sat with my feet tucked under me.  The Doc nodded for me to continue on and Dyson squeezed my hand hearteningly.

“I was…I don’t think I can do this,” I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my palm.

“You can do this,” Dyson said with a guaranteeing smile.

“When you’re ready, Harley,” the Doctor said, her professional way of telling me to spit it out. Get my ass in gear and stop wasting valuable time.

“I was…I was raped…repeatedly by my ex-partner for close to a year. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“If that’s what you needed to say, then yes. How does that make you feel?”

I couldn’t believe I said it out loud, I had used the words I feared the most. It was the first time I actually admitted what had happened to me. That it
was
rape. Dyson was staring silently at the floor. I wasn’t sure if he was detaching himself from the session or truly shocked by my admission. He said the words but I hadn’t…until now.

“I don’t know…ashamed, stupid,” I said, as emotional turmoil rolled over my stomach. “Angry...?Angry...Sad as hell…Pissed as fuck!”

I swiped a threatening tear away. I was
not
going to cry.

“Are these nightmares reenactments of the rape?” she asked, her tone calm and even. “Would you be comfortable recounting some of these nightmares?”

“No, I’m not fucking comfortable,” I whispered under my breath, my voice barely audible. “It’s not just the ra…she haunts me too, she’s not always in them though but when she is I wake up so pissed off, I want to hit something.”

“Who is
she
?”

“The woman who gave birth to me,” I answered, with venom in my tone.

“Your mother?” she asked, as I watched her writing on a legal pad with an expensive looking pen. “Did she cause you physical harm?”

“No, and I don’t call her that, she’s not my mother,” I said. “It probably would have hurt less if she had beaten me. She never wanted me…that’s a lie, she loved me until she found out I was gay. Then she hated me.”

I explained the situation with mommy dearest, the years of verbal abuse and abandonment. How my father walked away and our relationship was strained to say the least. How I barely ever saw him. It had been close to ten years since we had seen each other last, our relationship was...odd. My father did call me once a month, sent cards on holidays and birthdays and above all, he
never
hesitated to tell me that he loved me.

Dyson started drawing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb, my eye moved from my hand to a magazine sitting on the ottoman table tucked under a box of tissues. In the lower left hand corner I noticed a haunting image.
She
had a happy smile on her face, the tiny headline read ‘
husband #3 bets being taken as rumors of bankruptcy proceedings begin’.
I shook my head and reached for the magazine. I tossed it behind my chair and watched the Doc’s eyes follow the move, unreactive.

“Did something in particular trigger that reaction?” she asked.

“She’s everywhere, I can’t escape her,” I chuckled, sarcastically. “Even in here, she manages to crawl under my skin. She’s a nightmare all her own.”

“What do you do when you wake from a nightmare?”

“I work out,” I said. “Go for a run, anything to take mind off of it.”

“A physical release can be a very good thing,” she seemed happy with my answer. “So when you work out, do you feel better afterwards? Or do you tend to dwell on thoughts of your mother?”

“The only way I’m every going to feel better and be free of her is if she dies,” I concluded, my words hostile and charged.

“Let’s get back to the nightmares for now, we’ll address your mother another day,” she suggested. “The dreams, are they a nightly occurrence.”

“Not as bad anymore,” I looked at Dyson.

“What has changed?”

The Doc listened intently as I explained the last few weeks with Dyson in the hospital, my every waking and sleeping minute spent on Dyson.

“So, there were no nightmares while Dyson was in hospital?”

Dyson and I turned to each other consciously.

“There were a few, but they didn’t make me want to run. I didn’t lose too much sleep over them, did I?” I asked Dyson.

“Well, I’m not sure about the time I was out of it, but I don’t remember you having any nightmares until last night,” he said, his eyes moving between me and the Doc.

“So, Dyson’s hospital stay was a worrying but pleasant distraction for you. Was there a conversation or a situation last night that may have caused the nightmare? What was the last thing you did before bed?”

“We were talking about coming here,” Dyson reminded me.

“That’s right,” I affirmed.

“Did you discuss the assaults or your mother during this conversation?”

“Yeah, actually we did,” I declared. “I told Dyson that I wasn’t sure I could talk openly with a stranger.”

“Have you told Dyson about the nightmares?”

“Kind of, he knows what happened to me. I haven’t really gone over the details, I don’t want him thinking of me being…I don’t want his pity.”

“Harley has told me enough to know that he has gone through some scary times,” Dyson verbalized, increasing his grip. “He also knows he can tell me anything and I’ll be here for him, with one hundred percent support.”

The Doctor wrote on her paper as we retold our conversation at bedtime, every detail, word for word. She sat for a few long minutes, deep in contemplation, before speaking again.

“I’m going to give you a prescription,” she said. “It’s just something mild to relax you and help you sleep.”

“I don’t like taking pills,” I protested, Dyson squeezed my hand, his silent way of telling me to do as I was told. “Fine.”