Page 20 of Mayfly

“That would have gotten you hit, too. I was used to his beatings. He’d have probably killed you.”

“I’d have welcomed it.”

Jude grips me tighter. “Don’t let me ever hear you say that again.”

“But it’s true." I squeeze my eyes tight and try to bow my head away from him. "I wanted to die when they came and took you.”And I’ve wanted to die every day since.

And then, in the darkness, I feel Jude kiss me again.

“I never blamed you,” he tells me without breaking contact. “We were kids. We were never to blame.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him anyway.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

A stranger in my own body, I reach up and wrap my arms around Jude’s neck because all I know is I want him closer.

His hands travel back down my body and around to my ass. They’re so big. So strong. They slide further to the top of mythighs, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing. Turning, he forces my back against the wall, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

I can feel how hard he is, and so am I.

I want him to know I want this more than anything.

I tug at his lapels again, trying to rid him of the coat, and he helps by shrugging it off. I gather the hem of his knit jumper, and he sheds that too.

“What the fuck?”

Jude looks like he saw a ghost.

“That’s a fucking gun.”

“No shit.”

“Do you plan on using it?”

“Do you plan on making me?”

I look down at the gun, back to Jude, then around the room. There's a suitcase on the floor by the bed, and nothing has been touched.

“It’s for my job,” he says, unfastening the harness across his chest. He then reaches across and places it on the room's desk. “It’s a comfort thing. I—”

“I get it… You know I do.”

The bow of his head screams of so much shame that I know he’s never admitted. “I wish I didn’t need it all the time.”

I slip my hands beneath the white t-shirt still covering him. “You don’t need it right now.” I crawl my fingers over his stomach, my eyes never leaving his until the shirt is on the floor.

His chest is broad, and his bronze skin is marked with the remains of bruises.

“What’s that?” I ask, touching his left side.

He smiles bashfully, reaching beneath his arm to run his own fingers over it. And as he twists his body, my eyes gape at his tattoo; a Stormtrooper mask.

“Why did you…” I start, my voice fading because my heart is in my throat.

“I don’t have any others. But…” His voice tapers too, and he leans back in to kiss me softly. “I just needed to get it.”

My arms are back around his neck in an instant, and I grind myself against his stomach. It’s one part lust, and the other part an intrinsic urge for us to no longer be two separate people.

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