Yeah, the coffee can wait.
It’stwo hours later before we’re both dressed, and I manage to get him out of the door for breakfast.
“Do you have any preference?” he asks as he threads his fingers with mine and pulls me toward the stairs.
“Nope. I don’t know this side of town very well. Where’s good?”
“I know just the place.”
Ignoring the camper that’s sitting in the parking lot, we head out on foot. We walk in silence. I’m desperate to ask about his nightmare, but I’m scared how he might react. I know from personal experience that someone bringing up something you’re trying desperately hard to forget about is almost worse than the nightmare itself.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as we walk. “You’re tense.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just …”
“Just what?”
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
He pulls me to a stop and steps into my body, so I have no choice but to back up against the wall beside me. He ducks down and stares into my eyes.
“I remember you wrapping your lips around my cock. I remember you coming with my tongue inside you, then my fingers and finally my cock.”
My cheeks burn up as oblivious pedestrians continue to walk past us as if he’s not whispering these things to me in the middle of a public place.
“Corey.” It’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out more like a moan.
“You remember how good it felt?” He closes the space between us and presses the length of his body to mine.
A whimper falls from my lips. How could I forget? He reminded me less than an hour ago.
“T-that’s not quite what I meant.”
“Oh?”
His eyes bore into mine, and I stand no chance of getting myself out of this now.
“Y-you …” His brows lift in curiously as I fumble around my words. “You had a nightmare. That’s why I was up this morning. You woke me and I couldn’t?—”
“Motherfucker.” His angry grunt and giant step back cut off my words.
“Hey, it’s okay. I just didn’t know if you could remember and …”
“Can we not?” he pleads, his eyes begging me to stop before he breaks the connection between us and looks away.
“Yeah, sure. I just wanted you to know that I … I understand, and it’s okay.”
“It’s okay?” he asks incredulously. “It’s not … it can’t … Fuck.” He lifts his hands to his hair and tugs. I fear I might have just ruined everything between us, and all because I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut about his damn nightmare.
I stay where I am and give him a moment to compose himself. Even if he can’t remember the nightmare, I’m assuming that he’s aware of what it would have been about, and that me bringing it up is just as painful.
Tipping his head back, he stares up at the sky for a few seconds. His chest heaves as his breaths race out past his open lips.
I feel for him. I know how painful memories and regrets are, if that’s what he’s going through, but equally, I know that there’s nothing I can do right now other than wait him out.
“Let’s go,” he says eventually before he begins marching down the street.
This time, he doesn’t reach for my hand.