Page 2 of Repentance and Absolution
I grabbed him and pulled him down to me, hugging him so fierce that he squirmed and protested.
“Stop. You’re hurtin’ me. I can’t breathe.”
I loosened my hold a little so he wouldn’t try to get away, but t’was hard not to keep him in a death grip after that god-awful dream.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” he said, clutching my shoulders.
“I couldn’t find you,” I whispered, my heart beating a drum in my chest. “I couldn’t find you.” I was breathless, even though I’d not left my bed.
“I was right here—right here in this bed beside you, all night long.”
I nodded against him, keeping him close to prove to myself he was here and he was all right—and so was I. His hair smelled of wood smoke and sweat, and I reckoned we could both use a wash.
“You need a bath,” I murmured, kissing him under his ear where it smelled of his own special musk that I loved.
He snorted. “So do you. I reckon we oughta change into fresh underwear, too, and wash these ones.”
I slid a hand under the blankets, popping the buttons of the flap of his union suit so’s I could skate my palm o’er the swell of his ass, making him squirm in a delicious way, his small, stiff cock pressing against me.
“Well, dammit, it sure is you, Oscar. No one else has a nubby so small and sweet what wants to pretend to be big enough to cause any mischief,” I said, teasing him the way he liked to be teased, so that he felt dainty and delicate and half the man I was. It had seemed strange at first and like he should be offended by that kind of talk. But he loved it, and that was a fact. And I didn’t question it at all no more.
Sure enough, he groaned and pressed his fingertips into my shoulders, rutting against me like a dog.
“Goddammit. What were you dreamin’ about? You were sayin’ my name then you saidCal. Was itscandalous?”
“No. T’was terrifyin’. You were lost, and I couldn’t find you.”
He pressed against me, his nubby rubbing against my thigh through the fabric of his union suit. We’d bought the sets of red flannel underwear when the weather turned right cold at the start of November. Guess we’d had enough of freezing our asses off on our journey and we wanted to be warm, even if it meant looking ridiculous. “Well, you did, didn’t you? You found me good, since I was right here all along.”
“That’s a fact. Thank the Lord,” I murmured, turning his face to mine and finding his lips in the darkness. He opened to me in that sweet way he had of assuring me there weren’t nothing I couldn’t do that he wouldn’t want, as far as any intimacy with his body went. We’d nigh explored every damned inch of each other by now, and I never could get enough of him. I wasn’t sure I ever would.
I pulled away from his mouth and nuzzled into his neck, just to sniff that scent of him I was so fond of. “I’m just so relieved you’re here and t’was all a dream.”
He relaxed into me and offered his long neck for my kisses and for me to run my nose along. The bit of stubble there did something to ignite me, and I lapped my tongue o’er his Adam’s apple, then bit it gently.
“Oh. Jimmy. Hell,” Oscar breathed. “It ain’t even dawn yet, and you wanna keep me awake?” He yawned.
“I’m sorry. Never mind. Just cuddle under these here covers with me. I need to know I got you.”
Oscar stifled another broad yawn. “You got me, all right, in every sense of that word. You prob’ly won’t want me after a few more months. I’m already a nuisance most of the time, ain’t I?”
I didn’t know if he was playing up being a brat or if he truly thought he was a nuisance.
“No, you’re just— My ma used to call it restlessness, when I couldn’t sit still. Said I’d grow out of it, and I guess I did.”
“Yeah? What if I never grow out of it, huh? What if I’ll always be like this?” Oscar said, snuggling into me, wiggling his ass, even though he’d just told me he wanted to sleep.
“Keep still. I’m tryin’ to go back to sleep, and you ain’t helpin’.”
“What if I’m always this restless?” he asked again in a whisper. “Will you still love me?”
I laughed. He was all that and more, this twenty-one-year-old man-child.
“I reckon I will. Can’t seem to help it,” I grumbled, as if me loving Oscar was an inconvenience rather than the miracle of a lifetime that had been wasted with broken men.
“Good,” he said, laying his head down on the feather pillow. “I reckon I’ll still love you, too.”
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