Page 68 of The Darkness Within

“Wait.” He blows out a frustrated sigh, removing his hand. “Why aren’t the pills working? I’m starting to feel a little better, and I thought, I hoped…”

Fuck me silly. Fuck me silly. Fuck me silly. Don’t do it, Brewer. Do not offer… ”Do you want some help?” Fucking Brewer! You idiot.

“I mean, yeah? Yeah! Definitely.” The longer we maintain eye contact, the more awkward this becomes. “Are you fucking with me?”

I wish. “No, I promised you that I would give you a hand.” His eyes go wide, and I realize my blunder. “I mean, not my hand, but a hand, as in, I can help.” I’m not helping. Not at all.

“Are you sure it can’t be your hand?”

Fucking Nash. “I’m sure.” I laugh. As if I haven’t already fucked up colossally, I take a seat at the end of his bed.

“So how do you want to do this?” he asks, looking way too hopeful and eager.

“You should lie back and close your eyes.”

“Definitely!” he exclaims, complying immediately. “Do you do this for all your patients?”

“More or less.” Definitely less. Much less.

“Now what?”

Just lay still, so I can stare at you. “Keep your eyes closed, and do that breathing thing we’ve practiced.”

As I try to calm my racing heart, he slows his, breathing in through his nose, holding it for the count of three, and blowing out through his mouth.

“This isn’t something you’re going to cure with touch. You can jack off until you rub it raw and the skin peels from your shaft and you’re still not going to come. This is a psychological problem, and it can only be solved in your head.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should go back to the part where you said you would give me a hand.”

“Hilarious. But no, no furious jerking. The more frustrated you become, the faster and harder you jerk it, and the further away from orgasm or even erection you get.”

“So what do I do?”

“If you have to touch it, do it softly, slowly,” I emphasize. “But the focus isn’t on the action, it’s on your thoughts. Your imagination. If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”

“Right here, with you, hands down.”

Me, too. “What are you wearing?”

“This.”

That tells me a lot. That one word speaks volumes. He wants the intimacy, so he has no shirt, but he feels too vulnerable and embarrassed or ashamed to remove his pants. I bet if he were easily able to achieve an erection, that wouldn’t be the case.

“Okay, and what am I wearing?”

For a brief moment, he opens his eyes, giving me a sardonic look. “Really? Take a wild guess.”

“No guessing. This is a visual exercise. Tell me what I’m wearing.”

“Not a fucking thing. Wait, actually, you’re wearing everything you’ve got on.”

“Really?” I wasn’t expecting that.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I want to savor the moment when I take it off you.”

And I’m hard. Just like that. “Tell me what we’re doing.”

“Jesus, Brewer, you want me to spell it out for you?” Nash peeks at me with one eye open.

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