Page 64 of The Darkness Within

“Tell me about Victor Gutierrez. Tell me about a time when you and Victor were in the dark, maybe even in a confined space, and it had a positive outcome.”

My eyes never stop tracking the light. “That’s easy. It was the day the electricity went out in the barracks. G and I were caught in the elevator on the third floor. We were stuck in there for four hours, no light, no AC, no water, and he had to pee something terrible. I kept talking about the beach, describing the ocean and the sound of the waves, waterfalls, anything that might make him piss his pants. And the guys outside the elevator doors were constantly banging on them, shouting ridiculous things about what we might be up to inside the elevator. You know how they are. This was way before I came out as gay, so they thought it was real funny. Eventually, the electric came back on, but not before G pissed himself. They teased him about that for years, leaving diapers in his locker.”

So fucking clever, Brewer, making me think of a time that I laughed with my buddy in the dark, in a confined space, with stale air and the smell of piss.

This goes on and on as I roll through old memories with G, reinforcing the belief that dark, confined spaces aren’t always bad. That barking dogs and the smell of trash aren’t always doom and gloom.

Before he ends the session, Brewer asks me to visualize my time in the desert through mental snapshots, like looking through a photo album of pictures.

“In your mind, I want you to create distance between then and now. Not just distance of time, but space. Those memories, those pictures, belong to another life, a long time ago, in a place miles and miles away on the other side of the world. That place can’t touch you now. Then and now, two different times, two different places, two different worlds. Those pictures belong to a different Nash. An entirely different man. That life can’t haunt you now, it can’t hurt you now. Remove yourself from that life and create distance. Every time you think about it, move yourself further away.”

He clicks the light off, and we go through the breathing exercises again.

“How do you feel?”

“A little disassociated. I’m definitely still back there in my head.”

“Back where? In the barracks? In the good times? Or are you back in the desert?”

“Both. Everything is sort of mixing together in the same bowl. My head is everywhere at once.”

“That’s good, though. Get the memories mixed together. Dilute the bad ones with the good. Do you feel tired?”

I take a deep breath and blow it out with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“We’re going to head home now, and I’m going to keep an eye on you the rest of the day. It’s common to suffer headaches, or maybe even a setback after this, and I want to be there for you.”

Suddenly, tears rush to my eyes, pooling and blurring my vision before they track down my cheeks. I don’t even know where they came from, but I suddenly feel like bawling. In the blink of an eye, I feel overwhelmed and exhausted.

“Why am I crying?” I ask, sniffling as I wipe away the tears.

“Because like you said, we just stirred everything up into a big bowl and mixed it all together. The good and the bad. It’s like opening the tops of ten different cans at once and combining all the ingredients. Those cans held your memories and your feelings. Everything is raw and fresh right now.”

Brewer sits beside me on the couch, taking me into his arms. He turns his body sideways so that I’m lying against his chest, and he rocks me, like he did the other night in my bedroom, in the corner on the floor. The way he smells, like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a hint of musky cologne, is the most enticing scent I’ve ever smelled. Being held tightly in his arms, rocked against his solid chest, is the safest feeling in the world.

With the lights dimmed, and the soothing sounds he whispers in my ear, I close my eyes and drift away. When I open them again, I realize an hour has passed. A warm, soft lump of fur sits on my chest, sleeping soundly.

“Let me take you home,” Brewer murmurs.

Hot breath caresses my skin.

The brush of soft lips.

My thighs are alive with sensation and the pleasure centers in my balls, lighting me up with need and heat and want. Silky hair tickles my skin, and the coarse scratch of his scruffy chin sets my nerve endings on fire. I throw back the covers to get a look because I have to watch. The sight of his blond head between my thighs makes my balls draw up tight. They’re swollen with seed, the skin thickening, and I’m burning to release in his mouth.

I want to see Nash swallow my load. I want to see him lick his lips and ask for more.

His ocean blue eyes are trained on me, full of heat and need. He looks filthy and wicked with my cock stretching his lips, and I buck my hips, feeding him another inch or two.

“Take it. Suck my cock.” I barely recognize the sound of my own voice, so raspy and deep. Guttural. I’ll die if I don’t come soon. “I need you. Need your mouth.” He sucks hard on the tip, making me shiver. “Please, Nash. Finish me.”

I’m so beyond horny I don’t care that I’m begging.

Just put me out of my misery.

He slides down to the root and back up again, circling the head with his talented tongue, dipping into my slit to draw out drops of pearly liquid. He shows me his tongue, the pale drop glistens before he swallows it with a wolfish smile.

Fuck, he’s such a tease, the best kind of tease. I’m desperate to come but don’t want it to end. I could go on and on all night, enduring the sweet torture of his wicked mouth. It’s like being in both heaven and hell at once.

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