I open my eyes, still somnolent, disorientated for a second. 'Syed', I think. Is it real this time? Or is it only the distant dream it has always been? What if it's been a fantasy, an illusion? I turn around and there he is. Sleeping soundly and peaceful, looking beautiful… so beautiful. A sigh of relief leaves me. He's here, he's real, last night has been real. With caution I touch his face, stroke his soft hair, inhale his delicious scent. I've dreamed of this moment a thousand times. The moment he would be back in my bed, back in my life. I tried to fight those dreams, tried to move on, tried to acquaint myself with the fact that it might never happen but I couldn't help it. I never stopped dreaming. 'Now he's back and he will stay' I tell myself and in a way it still feels surreal.
Last night had been amazing. Syed had been amazing. So determined, so confident and sure of himself. He'd been aware of my fears, my doubts and he managed to wipe them all away.
God, I've missed this so much. I can feel his hands on my skin, his lips on my lips, his tongue in my mouth, his warm body pressed against mine, trying to get as close as humanly possible. I'm with him again, inside of him again. I'm quiet, trying to assimilate the significance of this instant. I look at my beautiful lover, so aroused, so lost in the moment. I smile as his blissful moans intermit the silence. I move at a steady pace invading his whole being with my thrusts.
And suddenly without warning there is this feeling. I'm scared. Terrified. I can't loose him again. I won't survive this time. Flashbacks in my head. The wedding. I couldn't stop him. I had to let him go. It hurt, it still does. Then the demons take over my mind. 'We did it. And I didn't even think of you' I hear him say, a lie of course but still another stabbing pain in my heart. 'I love her, I love her', I he shouts over and over again. Then I see them, dancing to our song, he kisses her, it's my fault. Everything is my fault. It's my fault that her father and his men beat me up. I enforced the whole thing being revealed in public, it's my fault. I see Syed standing there in the streets. Seeing me bruised and ignoring me nevertheless, not even saying a word. More pain. He tore my heart apart.
'It's over' I tell myself. 'This is reality. He's here. In my arms again. He loves me, I know he does. I know he always has. But what if the pressure will be too much? What if he'll leave me again?'
'Sshh', I hear him whisper. He understands. 'It's alright. Everything's alright, you don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you, I won't leave you. I'm yours, you can trust me.' He kisses away the tears running down my face. I hadn't even noticed them. He strokes my face, my arms, my back reassuringly. Dispelling the demons with his touches, taking me back to him. Back into this moment. I believe him. I know he speaks the truth and just like that the demons are gone. It's over, he is here and all I can feel is him. I want more. A sudden hunger floods my body. 'Oh yes, he is mine' I think as a lustful groan escapes my lips. I notice his eyes never leaving mine as I thrust deeper, faster. I instinctively know he wants to make sure I'm right here with him – and I am. I take hold of his cock as I can feel he's close. And then he releases, oh how I've missed the sight of him letting go. He's beautiful, breathtaking, perfect. I thrust a few more times and floored by the image of him underneath myself I come forcefully.
I must be awake for hours now. I spend my time just looking at him, softly touching him, holding him close in my embrace, making up for all the lost time. Every now and then I hear him sighing quietly while moving closer into my arms. Seems like he has to catch up on a lot of sleep. I can only imagine how exhausting the last couple of months must have been for him. He has tried to end his life. I feel guilt as I think about it. I felt paralysed back then. I wanted to help him but I couldn't. He wouldn't let me. He wanted to get rid of me, he wanted to get rid of himself. Going to a therapist to dispose of his gay feelings. The mere thought is actually laughable. But I get it. I get why he did it. How awful it must have been for him. All this fighting against this part of his personality. Forcing himself to go back to denial withal anticipating that the incidents of the past year had made denial so much harder. I wonder what his 'therapist' had told him. I'm going to ask him one day. There's a lot we need to talk about, a lot I want to know and quite a few things I want to share. But not now. There's plenty of time.
I smile as he slowly opens his eyes. He's back for good.
