Duke climbed into the other side of the bed, seemingly careful not to cross over the invisible line running down the center of it. Oh no. Can’t be none of that. Vaughan sat up and placed a pillow on Duke’s right side so he could prop his casted arm up while he slept on his back. Vaughan turned on his side and eased closer until his leg was intertwined with Duke’s, one arm resting on top of his pillow, the other on Duke’s chest. Stroking him calmly, easing him to sleep. He wasn’t only there to fuck Duke the way he needed it, he was there to be his partner, and that meant taking care of every need. And just then his man needed rest.
Duke tried to pry himself from his nightmare, his chest heaving because in his dream he’d been running for his life. Why did he keep having the same damn dream over and over? Who was he running from? Then everything went still and tranquil. A large warm hand was caressing him from his throat down to his navel, so patient and careful. The sweetest, gentlest touch he’d ever felt. Like he was being cherished. He needed to open his eyes all the way, but what if he was still dreaming. Finally, he was completely free of the dream, breathing normally; he didn’t want to wake and ruin it.
“Easy, sweetheart. It was just a dream,” a sensual voice said next to his throat.
Duke wanted to bury himself under Vaughan’s delicious morning growl and stay there until he was forced away. It comforted him like nothing ever had. Waking up drenched in sweat, his voice hoarse from yelling out had been a frequent occurrence in recent weeks; starting right before he left the hospital. He was afraid that he may have to take Charlie’s advice. The old man had run into Duke’s bedroom one too many times looking as frightened as Duke felt before he reluctantly insisted Charlie go home. Nightmares had never killed anyone. He’d figure it out on his own.
“Do you get them a lot, babe?”
Duke was wide-awake, but he kept his eyes closed, wanting to soak up every moment of comfort, every inch of contact that Vaughan was giving him. He was so close; Duke could feel the warmth wisping over his sensitive neck with each word he spoke. He moaned slightly when Vaughan stroked his chest, not bothered by the sweat that clung to him. “I’m fine.”
“I know you are,” Vaughan quipped back. “But I didn’t ask how you were.”
“I have them almost nightly, but at least they’re not getting worse. I don’t think I was yelling.” Oh no, was I?
“No. You weren’t yelling but you were breathing hard and grunting.”
Great. “Your dad probably thought we were going at it.” Duke rolled his eyes. “Well… The grunting is better than how I used to wake up. Honestly. This was the best I’ve slept in months.”
Duke finally opened his eyes fully and turned to look at Vaughan, and the sight took his breath away. Holy shit. Duke was speechless. How was it possible for someone to wake up looking like Vaughan did right then? Duke was discreetly trying make sure he didn’t have a drool trail on his chin while Vaughan laid there looking, like the song says: I woke up like this… flawless. All that sexily tousled honey-brown hair somehow looked as if it’d been styled that way. Smooth, olive skin that went for miles down Vaughan’s entire body glowed beautifully in the morning light. Shit, who could possibly wake up to the sight of him every morning and still be a functioning, working citizen? All Duke wanted to do was turn towards that gorgeous man and let himself be had, all day, into the evening, and then all night. He’d never leave their bed.
A man like him didn’t get so lucky. He was just an aging roughneck with no social or cultural skills. His life was common and boring. If he wasn’t at Quick’s eating nachos and watching a game, then his fantastic nights consisted of beer and catching up on his favorite shows on DVR – Ice Road Truckers, Deadliest Catch, Arrow, Person of Interest—basically anything that showcased badasses; he liked it.
Fact was Duke knew nothing of dating and romance. He always liked the idea of it but had never gotten a chance to experience it. It looked like that was about to change because Vaughan was the Grand Poohbah of romance. He had no doubt he would be more than happy to teach Duke how to tap into his inner Casanova.
“What are you thinking about so hard, handsome?”
Duke chuckled lightly. “You.”
“Me.”
“Yep.”
“What about me?”
“I’m thinking how I don’t want to get out this bed with you still in it.”
“Then don’t,” Vaughan almost growled, turning and sidling closer. “Stay right here with me. Close to me. Touching me. Kissing me.”