K, it seems like I keep forgetting to do this:
DISCLAIMER FOR ALL OF TIME by Bloopy: I absolutely 100 bow down to the creator Dick Wolf; the majority of these characters are not mine…I just have my own ideas for how they should spend their time.
I'm moving to Tucson to begin life as a college freshman, so I hope you will enjoy the story as much as I will enjoy writing and growing as an author.
Now here's some more BA goodness.
He couldn't see; he couldn't smell; he couldn't hear…
…but he could feel.
Long hair grazed against his chest, tickling him gently, and slid down his abdomen. Body heat and warm breath softened his skin against her; smooth skin glided effortlessly down his body…
…but something was wrong, and he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Was it the way she touched him? No, he had been touched this way before. Was it what was between him? Was it who she was? What was going on?
And then suddenly he shivered, and like an avalanche triggered by a rogue cry, he realized what was wrong.
Her touch was as cold as ice.
He couldn't hear anything but he knew from how his lips were parting he was screaming, yet his eyes could see nothing but black. He couldn't visibly make her out, but there was no doubt who this was.
Nicole.
With her hands getting closer to her prize.
He tried saying the word "no" but it wasn't coming out. His mouth was dry and horse from the soundless screams and she was almost near his length. "No," he tried to say, wrapping his tongue around the words. "No…no…no…No…."
"NO!" he yelled, screaming himself awake. His face felt clammy, and reaching his hand to his cheek he felt cold wetness bead against his skin. He looked down at the navy blue comforter trying to stop the nausea from overtaking him as he whispered, "No."
"Bobby!" he heard from the doorway of his room. The voice moved closer to him and turned on the light on the nightstand before taking his hand.
It felt warm.
"Another dream?" she asked, intertwining their fingers as she rubbed her thumb along his palm.
"Yeah," he said quietly, using his loose hand to grab the washcloth that sat on his nightstand for just this purpose and wipe the perspiration off his face. He looked up into her eyes and saw the anxiety that appeared every night he woke up screaming.
She looked down before asking gently, "Would you like me to stay?"
"No," he rushed out quickly, and then regretted it. He saw her eyes change to a slightly misted hazel, which he knew meant she was trying to cover up the ache she felt for him. "No," he said, more slowly this time. "I'll be okay."
"Okay," she said quietly, her voice even. "I'll be in the guest room…if you need me." She gently got off the bed and walked towards the exit, shutting the door softly behind her.
He wanted to call her back, wanted to tell her every little detail that haunted him, every bit of fear and shame…
…but he wasn't ready. He didn't know if he would ever be ready.
He put the washcloth down and leaned back against the headboard; it would be another night with no sleep.