Wrecked

by Deanna Wadsworth

  Taking a deep nasal breath he looked at the drawing in his hand, wondering what his professors might think of this conversation. “You say you’ve had this sight since childhood. I don’t know what you mean. Do you have visions?”

  Rief stared for several heartbeats, once more the insecure man Mathew had seen when he’d first shared his art. “Would you be afraid to touch me if I said yes?”

  Chuckling, he allowed the drawing to drift from his hand and join the others in the heap. “Precious little would prevent me from wanting to touch you, Rief. If the threat of being publicly humiliated and jailed didn’t stop me, how could this? I’m just flummoxed how you drew me as a man when I was yet a boy. You say this began after your mother died. Did you have some sort of vision of me then? Did you know we would meet one day?”

  “No, I thought you were something I imagined. You have no idea what a shock it was to see you for the first time.”

  “You’re real,” Mathew said, the illumination of discovery coloring his voice. “That’s what you said when you saved me.”

  Rief shook his head, still unable to release the bitterness within. “Do you know why I was able to save you that night? Because I felt it in my bones. I knew I needed to be on the reef. That’s what always happens. I feel things, see things others can’t. Things I shouldn’t know. It’s never clear. The visions are broken up and jumbled mostly. Sometimes I get these powerful urges, compulsions to drop whatever I’m doing and go somewhere or paint something. It’s only after things happen that I realize what it all meant.”

  “So what does all of this mean?”

  “I have been trying to figure that out since the moment I saw you.” The weariness in his tone was second only to the dejection in his posture.

  “Well, your sight saved my life,” Mathew said, logical thinking attempting to make sense of a very illogical situation. “That is something to celebrate, not condemn. If it were not for these premonitions of yours, I would be dead.”

  “Congratulations,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “You are the first one who’s gotten anything good out of my affliction.”

  “Rief—”

  “No! You don’t understand. This is not something to celebrate. It’s a curse. Men spit at me and women cross themselves when I pass. Children fear me. My own brother can’t stand to be in the same room with me.” He gestured to the undisturbed portion of his studio where the paintings of the great hurricane and his mother leaned against the wall. “Those images of the bodies on the shore, the town flooded? I made them before the hurricane. When my dad saw them, he was confused, but after it all came true....” He shook his head, closing his eyes and rubbing his face as if it would erase whatever memory tormented him. “He never looked at me the same. It was worse after I showed him the painting of Mother. I tried to make him love me again, prove I was still the same person. But after that, he was terrified of me.”

  “Your gift is not something to fear,” Mathew protested. “It saved my life!”

  As if Rief hadn’t heard him, he continued, “Sometimes I don’t see anything for a week or so, and I forget that I will never be like everyone else. But then it happens again. I might bump into someone in the street and I see them leaning over a sickbed. Or I let my mind wander and I’m suddenly choking on the smoke from an imagined fire. Every time it happens, hope is crushed. I’ve seen so many things I shouldn’t, and I’ve foolishly painted every dark and hateful line. My hands are cursed to show only evil.”

  “That’s not true, at all!” To make his point, he picked up a small brightly colored canvas that had unrolled during Rief’s tantrum. It was a side profile of Mathew, his eyes wrinkled with joyous laughter and crooked nose on full display. “Your drawings of me are not as dark as the rest of your art. They aren’t omens of death and destruction. They’re light and happiness. Hands you name cursed, they created this”—he shook it for emphasis—“and it is beautiful!”

  Rief stared at the image, stubbornly pursing his lips and shaking his head. “No, Matt. Those, they’re something different altogether.”

  Mathew gave him a pleading look, wishing for a way to break through this wall of condemnation and hurt. “Then what are they? Help me understand!”

  He remained silent, and just when Mathew thought he wouldn’t speak, he did.

  “You know how lonely it is, being like us.” He gestured between their still nude bodies. “But I had to deal with these other changes too. My mother had the sight, but we were never allowed to mention it. The doctors said she had hysteria, and they gave her laudanum to calm her, but it didn’t help. It was a giant cloud hanging over our family no one would acknowledge. She took her life before I understood what was happening to me, and I was too afraid to ask anyone else. My father and Cole stayed out on patrol afterward, leaving me on shore to care for the house. Sometimes my uncle was there, but I couldn’t stand his pity. Everything was falling apart, and I was completely alone.” He paused, and his voice took on an ethereal quality that raised goose flesh on Mathew’s body. “Then one day I saw this man in my mind’s eye.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” Closing his eyes as if he could shut out all the world, Rief went on in a shuddery monotone, “All I have ever wanted was for someone to understand me. Accept me. All of me, even this curse that I hate. Since I could never have it in real life, I created him. When I was scared I drew him, when I was angry, he calmed me. When I didn’t understand my visions or when the hatred of others became too painful to endure, the brush somehow created his face. It is deeply pathetic, and it shames me to admit, but your image has been my only friend for a very long time. And now you are real, looking at me with those eyes!” Sudden tears poured down his anguished face, causing Mathew’s own to spring forth. “I cannot bear it!”

  At the sound of his cry, Mathew didn’t hesitate to fold him into his arms. The heat of Rief’s body warmed the chill that had taken him, and he tightened his grip on the trembling man, not sure which of them held the other. What could he say to such a powerful and unbelievable confession?

  “Everyone hates me because of what I can do,” Rief whispered. “Drawing you gives me peace. It keeps me from being sucked into a world of darkness and despair. You ask what these drawings are? They are snatches of happiness in an otherwise wretched life.”

  “You don’t have to be alone anymore, Rief.” His voice trembled with emotion. “I’m here now.”

  “But you’re going to leave me,” he cried, clinging to him hard enough to bruise. “When you are gone, then where will I be? Now that I’ve felt your embrace, tasted your lips, how will mere images be able to keep the darkness away? How will they keep me from the same fate as my mother?”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Mathew declared, consumed with a sudden terror of losing this man when he had just found him.

  “How?” he asked in a tiny voice.

  Withdrawing, Mathew brushed the wetness from Rief’s cheeks and gave him a determined look. “I cannot predict the future, but right now, I am here and I am real. And I promise that I’m going to take care of you.”

  Emotions raged within Rief, and he fought to keep them contained, to stop the torrent of grief that wanted to consume him totally. He felt so raw and exposed. “Matt, I—”

  “Shhh,” he cooed. “That’s enough. I’m here now.”

  No one had ever held him like this—not before they knew the truth and especially not after.

  Mathew kissed his cheek, rendering his already weakened state into something resembling a jelly fish. “I do not know what any of this means, Rief. Something or someone made you paint me. God? The Devil? I cannot guess. But I do know how I feel about you, and not even this fantastic mystery will force me to abandon you. Not when you need me as badly as I need you.”

  Rief stubbornly shook his head. “How can you say that?”

  The arms around him tightened, and Mathew’s confident tone gave him a glimmer of hope. “There is only one thing you need to know,
Rief. I care about you, and I want to be with you.”

  He couldn’t accept that so easily. “You’re going back to England soon.”

  “Even when an ocean separates our bodies, it will not sever this.” Mathew placed one hand on his own chest, then pressed it to Rief’s.

  Fighting another swell of tears, he clutched at Mathew’s hand to keep it in place over his heart—right where the man had been his entire life.

  “I cannot abandon you, Rief. Nor can I shun you for what you cannot help. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people yet to feel alone. Seeing this”—he indicated the art on the floor—“tells me you feel that ache more powerfully than I ever have. Please, stop tormenting yourself. Accept the balm I am offering your broken spirit.”

  Unable to speak, he buried his face in Mathew’s neck, inhaling his scent and reveling in the unfathomable comfort of his arms and the deliverance offered by words spoken from a man who called himself lover and friend.

  How could Mathew be this accepting of a secret others had hated him for?

  “So what say you?” Mathew said, his voice coaxing but sure. “Shall we accept the unexplainable and move on, savoring our time together? Be grateful that we found each other to ease this loneliness while we can? Or shall you push me away to wallow in your personal hell?”

  Rief stared at the man in his arms, so solid and warm. So very real. When he longed for someone to love and understand him, the “Mathews” from his art had filled that need. But now the real man had a more powerful effect on him than any drawing ever could. Awakening a forgotten happiness deep inside him he’d thought would remain lost forever.

  In the depths of Mathew’s eyes, Rief saw only kindness and affection, not fear or loathing. The very things he’d never dreamed possible, offered by the only man he’d ever trusted. A man whose image he’d been in love with for so long he could barely recall life without him. He could almost believe they had been brought together for a reason.

  That they were supposed to be together.

  Feeling as if this were a dream he might wake from, Rief took the risk and answered Mathew’s question. “I want you to stay, please.”

  “I was hoping you would say that. Because I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

  Needing more, everything, just to prove this wasn’t a dream, he whispered, “Make love to me?”

  “Whatever you need, I am here for you.” Stroking his damp cheek, Mathew smiled. “But you will have to tell me how to do it properly. I won’t hurt you.”

  Wishing he could understand, Rief clutched at his arms. “You haven’t hurt me! When you take charge, it makes me feel”—he bit back the embarrassment and spoke the truth—“loved.”

  Lips pursed, Mathew studied him. “All right, I can do that. But no more of this violence or asking me to hurt you, understand? You need tenderness. What you can do defies all logic, but it does not make you as cursed and as evil as you believe. I will not punish you for imagined sins. I want to give you the comfort you have been denied far too long.”

  Choking back the emotions those kind words brought forth, Rief allowed Mathew to take his hand and lead him to the bed. Some of the candles still flickered, casting golden shadows over the room. Having never known real affection, he had learned to pretend he didn’t need it, eschewing any affection for rough sex, love for hatred. It hurt too badly to need kindness, only to have it withheld every time.

  If he didn’t let anyone see that vulnerable part of himself, he couldn’t be hurt. Yet from the beginning, he had been unable to hide the truth from Mathew.

  He’d never even tried.

  And then Mathew was pressing him onto the bed. He slid a hand down Rief’s chest, his blue eyes entreating. “Let me love you?”

  The tender request threatened to undo Rief completely, but he nodded, biting back a stinging sensation. If only Mathew would love him with his heart, not just his body. To love him for more than this brief moment in time.

  To love him forever.

  Needing to memorize every nuance of his savior, he studied the man lying beside him. The candlelight illuminated his glowing skin, the nipples on his chest splotches of paint on an unblemished canvas. A statue carved of perfect marble, Mathew had no rival to his perfection in Rief’s eyes. His heart skipped, and he touched him reverently, half fearing his muse might disappear like in a dream. He ran his fingers over the milky cream of Mathew’s skin, like strokes of a brush across canvas, relishing the sight of his weathered hands against naked white skin, and savoring the feel of Mathew’s hands on his body.

  He buried his fingers in the nest of dark blond curls surrounding his cock—a cock he needed inside him. Fingertips gliding to the end, as if leading that organ home, Rief scooted back on the bed and raised his knees. “Please?”

  With a groan, Mathew took in his wanton offering. His lips quirked into a half smile as he whispered, “First, there’s something I must do.”

  Awestruck, Rief watched Mathew slip between his legs. He caressed the outsides of Rief’s hips, goose bumps rising all over his skin. When Mathew took a hold of his cock with far more authority than expected, nothing could have prepared Rief for the myriad of emotions and sensations that rippled through his body. He gently pushed the foreskin back with his lips, making Rief tremble. Then he delivered a few tentative kisses across the head, licking and tasting. When he sucked on his crown, Rief thrust up.

  “Oh!”

  He pressed Rief’s hips into the bed with his hands, holding him in place. “No,” he whispered, voice choked. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do a thing. I told you that I would take care of you, my love.”

  Frantic, breathing hard, Rief nodded. Mathew licked and teased, and Rief could barely contain his body from jerking with pleasure. But every time he tried to move, Mathew held him prisoner, keeping him still. He gave himself over to that mastery, trusting him. But eventually his need became too much to endure. “Please, Matt. I can’t wait. Just fuck me.”

  Caressing his hips, Mathew sat back, his hard cock poking out. “Where’s the oil?”

  Rief reached for it on the bed stand, anticipation making his breathing rough as he handed it over. Needing Mathew to claim him hard and fast, he took a submissive position on his hands and knees. The slick sounds of a cock being lubricated sent a tremor shooting through him, and any patience he had left was tossed aside. “Please, just slam it in me!”

  “Is that what others have done?”

  Face buried in the crook of his arm, Rief whispered, “Always.”

  “Then, no,” he said firmly. He stroked Rief’s hole, causing his entire body to quiver. “This will be special. Better. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you again. I will only give you pleasure, never pain.”

  Those words melted him. “Then don’t stop touching me.”

  “Now, that I will gladly do.”

  Kneeling over him, Mathew embraced him from behind. He cupped Rief’s chin and drew him into a tender kiss. Mathew’s other hand caressed his chest, his abdomen, moving lower to grip his cock. Panting, he held still while Mathew cared for him, kissing his back, massaging his flesh, and sliding his tongue down Rief’s spine.

  Covered and totally consumed by Mathew, his body came alive with feeling and desire. He had been with his share of men, mostly as a quick, cheap thrill for them. In the heat of the moment, he pretended to trust them and that they cared. But they had never been more than passing pleasure seekers interested in their own relief and never truly concerned with Rief.

  But not Mathew.

  Even when Rief told him to take what he wanted, to use him roughly, he only did so if he thought it would bring Rief pleasure. With a gentle authority, he’d taken Rief’s heart and body in his small hands. He was selfless. Experiencing such affection was so foreign, so wonderful, that Rief felt an ache in his chest far more acutely than the one in his groin.

  Mathew’s hands glided down his skin, caressing and taking their time. Then they found th
eir way to his crack again, lingering against his opening. Rief arched his back and pulled himself open, begging without words for what he needed so desperately.

  “How much oil do you need?” Mathew asked, voice thick with lust.

  When Rief looked back at him, he could see Mathew’s mind turning as he tried to determine his next course of action. His contemplative expression might’ve been funny if Rief weren’t so impatient to have Mathew pounding him, making his body burn until all his pain washed away. “It doesn’t matter, Matt. You already oiled your cock, so just shove it in.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, offended. With a determined nod, he placed his fingers over Rief’s hole and began rubbing.

  He groaned when a finger slid inside. “More.”

  With a tender touch, Mathew continued to rub him, adding oil then pulling and massaging his ring until he didn’t know how much more he could take. While Mathew worked his hole, he kissed Rief’s cheeks, rubbed his back, each soothing touch a healing benediction. No one had taken so much time with him before, and the wanting was killing him. When two fingers reached that spot of pleasure, his arms collapsed, knees spread and ass up. Panting, he thrust against the too-gentle touch. “Please, just get inside me, I need you so bad.”

  “Yes, all right, yes.” Mathew panted, withdrawing his fingers and kneeling behind him.

  He took hold of his hips, and Rief spread his legs further, lowering his pelvis so it was at the right height for Mathew’s shorter legs. When that delicious blunt cock pressed into him, breaching his opening, he hissed.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No—shit!” he cried, gasping for air when Mathew retreated. “Please, don’t stop now!”

  “All right, all right!” He sounded as desperate as Rief felt.

  He lined up for a second try, and Rief pushed back to meet him. He sighed when Mathew gripped his hips and began to enter him with the controlled ease of a confident lover. His body stretched to receive him, and for the first time, he felt almost no pain from entry, only pure, unadulterated pleasure.