“I’m here. I’m listening. Talk to me.”
The intensity of emotion couldn’t be projected by Cutter’s heart. Storm cared Cutter believed that. Why else would have tolerate him for so long? But Storm didn’t love him in the same way Cutter loved him.
“I need to move past this…” He wasn’t going to name his sick one-sided love for Storm. The emotion had too much power over him already. He needed to love more things in this shitty world than Storm. “I need to move on. We’re still friends.”
“Best friends,” Storm asserted.
Cutter nodded. Maybe this therapy shit had some merit to it, though it would be nice not to feel as if his heart were being ripped out of his chest. Where was his knife? A compass? A thumbtack? Fuck, anything to stop this turmoil of feelings. He’d do anything to stop the pain from eating him alive. Pluck . The mild sting barely scratched his itch. “I need someone who can love me back.”
“I do love you.”
“I know.” Storm had said he loved Cutter a million times, and he might say the L-word a million times more, but all Cutter heard was “You aren’t enough for me to really love you. You don’t deserve the kind of love you want.” Maybe he didn’t. He snapped the bands harder.
“Hey, you never put one of those in my hair.” Storm turned back around.
Running the brush back through Storm’s hair, a calm replaced the heartbreak. This was on the “Don’t cut yourself” activity list: distract yourself by doing something other than cutting. So he gathered the dark strands and bound them together. He paid attention to the details of Storm’s hair to distract himself. The soft texture sifting through his fingers lessened his need to cut. Go figure, the doc was on to something.
The sun had set and the outdoor lamp lit the path back to the dorm. “There, it’s all done. The rat’s nest has been tamed.” Hopefully, it was and Cutter would move forward, though in what direction he wasn’t sure.
Storm swiveled on the bench to face him. “Come here.”
No! Yes! Oh God, I am fucked. “What?”
With gentle fingers, Storm swiped his thumbs under Cutter’s eyes. “You look like a baby raccoon with this shit on.”
“Do not.” His denial was weak as he leaned into Storm’s touch.
“I don’t even know why you wear it.”
Cutter didn’t bother to justify his need to hide behind cosmetics or to try to enhance his appearance. And he certainly didn’t need to melt at Storm’s simple touch. He reached down to pluck the single rubber band that remained. Ah, a little better .
Storm had agreed to keep in touch with Ulrich even though Cutter was forbidden technology while undergoing therapy. Storm didn’t want to be off the grid so he put an old cell phone into the basket at the front desk so no one suspected he’d hidden another in his sock. Cutter always tried to catch a peek at what Storm was texting.
Replacement therapy… loks lik I was replaced .
Cutter’s instinct was to deny it but he didn’t. When it was time, he hugged Storm good night. Then he did number nine on his “Do Something Other Than Cut” list. Go figure, he’d been doing number nine since he hit puberty. He did it three times before he finally fell asleep to dreams of the three men about whom he’d just finished fantasizing
Chapter Five
“Please, Alex. Please, let me come.” Ulrich’s body trembled against the leather massage bed he sprawled on. His pretty begging fed Alex’s need to dominate.
After the therapists left the Extraction room, Alex pushed their two beds together as he’d done for the past week after their massages. He’d been relaxed afterward, laughing minutes before, but now he used the milking device to tease his roommate senseless.
Alex sensually tormented him, building him to levels he’d probably never reached alone. Days ago, Uli had surrendered control of the milker to Alex. The charge of power Alex experienced was unparalleled. As
The intensity of emotion couldn’t be projected by Cutter’s heart. Storm cared Cutter believed that. Why else would have tolerate him for so long? But Storm didn’t love him in the same way Cutter loved him.
“I need to move past this…” He wasn’t going to name his sick one-sided love for Storm. The emotion had too much power over him already. He needed to love more things in this shitty world than Storm. “I need to move on. We’re still friends.”
“Best friends,” Storm asserted.
Cutter nodded. Maybe this therapy shit had some merit to it, though it would be nice not to feel as if his heart were being ripped out of his chest. Where was his knife? A compass? A thumbtack? Fuck, anything to stop this turmoil of feelings. He’d do anything to stop the pain from eating him alive. Pluck . The mild sting barely scratched his itch. “I need someone who can love me back.”
“I do love you.”
“I know.” Storm had said he loved Cutter a million times, and he might say the L-word a million times more, but all Cutter heard was “You aren’t enough for me to really love you. You don’t deserve the kind of love you want.” Maybe he didn’t. He snapped the bands harder.
“Hey, you never put one of those in my hair.” Storm turned back around.
Running the brush back through Storm’s hair, a calm replaced the heartbreak. This was on the “Don’t cut yourself” activity list: distract yourself by doing something other than cutting. So he gathered the dark strands and bound them together. He paid attention to the details of Storm’s hair to distract himself. The soft texture sifting through his fingers lessened his need to cut. Go figure, the doc was on to something.
The sun had set and the outdoor lamp lit the path back to the dorm. “There, it’s all done. The rat’s nest has been tamed.” Hopefully, it was and Cutter would move forward, though in what direction he wasn’t sure.
Storm swiveled on the bench to face him. “Come here.”
No! Yes! Oh God, I am fucked. “What?”
With gentle fingers, Storm swiped his thumbs under Cutter’s eyes. “You look like a baby raccoon with this shit on.”
“Do not.” His denial was weak as he leaned into Storm’s touch.
“I don’t even know why you wear it.”
Cutter didn’t bother to justify his need to hide behind cosmetics or to try to enhance his appearance. And he certainly didn’t need to melt at Storm’s simple touch. He reached down to pluck the single rubber band that remained. Ah, a little better .
Storm had agreed to keep in touch with Ulrich even though Cutter was forbidden technology while undergoing therapy. Storm didn’t want to be off the grid so he put an old cell phone into the basket at the front desk so no one suspected he’d hidden another in his sock. Cutter always tried to catch a peek at what Storm was texting.
Replacement therapy… loks lik I was replaced .
Cutter’s instinct was to deny it but he didn’t. When it was time, he hugged Storm good night. Then he did number nine on his “Do Something Other Than Cut” list. Go figure, he’d been doing number nine since he hit puberty. He did it three times before he finally fell asleep to dreams of the three men about whom he’d just finished fantasizing
Chapter Five
“Please, Alex. Please, let me come.” Ulrich’s body trembled against the leather massage bed he sprawled on. His pretty begging fed Alex’s need to dominate.
After the therapists left the Extraction room, Alex pushed their two beds together as he’d done for the past week after their massages. He’d been relaxed afterward, laughing minutes before, but now he used the milking device to tease his roommate senseless.
Alex sensually tormented him, building him to levels he’d probably never reached alone. Days ago, Uli had surrendered control of the milker to Alex. The charge of power Alex experienced was unparalleled. As
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