The Mystery of Nevermore

by C. S. Poe

  “I don’t need to be a cop to go to the damn library.”

  When Calvin returned, he stepped close enough that the smell of mint and man made my head spin. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “Fine, whatever.” I wasn’t going to fight about a trip to the library. I was really only half listening to him anyway, not that it could be helped when he stood so close that I could count his freckles. I reached out to touch the fine, light-colored hair on his chest and followed it down.

  Calvin reached under my chin and lifted it. “Go to bed.”

  “Uh, are you coming?”

  “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “Cal, you’re not sleeping on the floor in your own home. Come on.” I tugged him to the bed, threw the covers back, and slid over to the side against the wall. “See? Plenty of space.”

  “Fine.” He walked over to the front door to check the lock and shut the lights off.

  I leaned over to put my glasses on the nightstand, then turned onto my side, back to Calvin as he silently climbed into bed. It took all of my self-control not to curl up beside him, but he’d been firm in his decision with me, and neither of us were doing so well when it came to no more touching and nicknames. Someone had to stop first.

  The bed shifted, and Calvin drew up close behind me. He snaked an arm between mine and wrapped it over my chest, holding me tight.

  “Calvin,” I said with a sigh. I rolled over to face him. “You can’t keep being so sweet and touchy with me if I’m not allowed to have you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t help myself.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  Calvin removed his hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I couldn’t help but imagine that Calvin, with the way he touched—so gentle and as if it were the greatest experience of his life—had been denied intimate contact for a long, long time.

  “I’m not asking you to wave a rainbow flag around,” I said. “You don’t have to announce to everyone you work with that you’re fucking a guy.”

  “There’s more to it than that, Sebastian,” Calvin replied. “I’m… not a good choice for a partner. There’s a lot wrong with me that I don’t want to burden another person with.”

  “Sounds like an excuse.”

  Calvin laughed. “Believe me, baby, it’s not.” He reached out to touch my cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  I pushed his hand away and moved closer, firmly holding him. “Every time you call me baby, I’m going to hug you.”

  “What’ll that accomplish?” he asked while planting his fingers in my hair.

  “You drop it constantly, so maybe if you get enough hugs, you’ll warm up to dating. I don’t know.” I just know I want you and can’t bear the thought of losing you. But I didn’t say that out loud.

  Chapter Twelve

  I HAD fallen into a sleep that I don’t think even the dead can obtain. It had been great until I got punched in the face and knocked into the brick wall. I startled awake, the entire left side of my face hurting and the wall scratching uncomfortably on my back. I think I cursed, but it was drowned out by Calvin’s screams. It took me a second to realize he wasn’t being killed, though if I had been going by sound alone, that’s what I’d have suspected.

  I sat up, reached over the bed, and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Calvin!”

  He was thrashing in a nightmare—there was no other explanation for me having been slammed so hard. His skin was clammy and damp to the touch.

  “Calvin! Wake up! Jesus—! Calvin!”

  He woke up with a start, sitting up and struggling to breathe. He was shaking and quickly covered his face with his hands as he sobbed uncontrollably.

  Oh God. What was happening?

  I removed my hands from his shoulders, and they sank while he cried.

  His side of the bed was damp with sweat as I moved to climb off.

  These were night terrors. True, actual terrors that could wake a man—a man who I suspected was stronger and braver than anyone I had ever known—from a deep sleep and reduce him to an emotional mess in seconds.

  It was then that those little things I’d seen Calvin do started to connect. The moments he’d been startled—Max dropping the box, when I said his name while he was half-asleep, the squawking African grey…. And the twelve years of military service that Calvin refused to talk about.

  It made sense now.

  PTSD.

  “Cal? Honey, you’re okay,” I said loudly, trying to be heard over his crying. “You’re in bed, in your apartment in New York. You’re here with me. Everything is okay,” I insisted.

  The moment was surreal, to see such a powerful man reduced to nothing but raw and bleeding heartache.

  What had he been dreaming about? What haunted him? The war in the Middle East had gone on so long that many Americans just sort of forgot about it, myself included. Now that soldiers were home, just exactly how many of them were coming back with invisible wounds that the public still discriminated against out of sheer ignorance?

  What can a man bear to see before he’s seen too much?

  “Cal?” I said again. I hastily grabbed my glasses so I could see what the hell I was doing before taking his wrists and gently tugging them down to reveal his face.

  The dark was my friend, and I could see him in better detail. Calvin’s eyes were bright with tears, his cheeks wet, and his hair a mess. He looked old. He looked vulnerable and broken. It made me realize that receiving the Medal of Honor and countless other awards issued by the police department and military did not make him invincible.

  “I couldn’t save them,” he whispered. “There was so much fucking blood. I couldn’t—I couldn’t reach them.”

  I was sitting on my knees in front of the bed, staring up at him. It hurt to see this, hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced. I pulled him down, and Calvin slid off the bed. He sat on his knees in front of me, clinging fiercely and hugging me so hard that I could barely breathe.

  I rubbed his back. “You’re safe,” I insisted.

  “I let them die,” Calvin cried.

  I moved my hand up to his head and gripped his hair. “No. Don’t think that. Please don’t.”

  “I let that little boy die.”

  I maneuvered Calvin back enough so I could hold his face in my hands. “Calvin,” I whispered. “Everything’s going to be okay.” I didn’t know what else to do or say, and it was scary.

  It was terrifying.

  He was starting to calm down, though. Calvin wasn’t shaking anymore and was wiping his eyes dry. This must have been the issues he didn’t want to burden me with. How many nights a week did he wake up alone in utter fear and panic? Was he getting help?

  “Calvin?” I asked quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t think this would happen tonight. I’m just… stressed.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do or say. I didn’t want to set him off again. “Can you stand?” I asked. He nodded after a beat, and I helped him to his feet. “How about you go take a quick shower to cool down? Do you have clean sheets?”

  “What?” He looked back at the bed, realizing he must have sweat so much I needed to bring it up. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. Don’t worry.” I gently pushed him toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower.”

  I waited until Calvin shut the bathroom door behind him and the water turned on, then went to the closet and felt around for a bit before finding folded bedsheets and pulling them out. I quickly remade the bed, tossing the old sheets in the hamper as Calvin came out of the bathroom, wet and naked. He changed into a clean pair of pajamas before sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I crouched down in front of him. “Can I get you something?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he muttered.

  “Please don’t apologize.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “I thrash ar
ound. I don’t mean to.”

  “Cal, I’m okay,” I insisted, not bothering to bring up the fact he had actually hit me pretty hard in his sleep.

  He rubbed at his jaw in an agitated manner.

  “Do you… need to talk about anything?” I asked quietly. “You can trust me, if you need to get something off your chest.”

  “No,” he immediately answered.

  “Calvin—”

  “No, Sebastian,” he said again, harder. “I’m not—I don’t want to talk about it.” Calvin’s voice got thick again, and he covered his eyes with a hand.

  I got up and sat beside him on the bed. “All right, all right. You don’t have to.” I reached over, took his free hand, and linked our fingers together.

  He gripped my hand hard for several minutes. His hold eventually began to loosen as he seemed to mentally talk himself down from whatever ledge of memories he was looking off.

  “Have you seen a doctor?” I asked quietly. My answer was silence, so I took it as a no. That worried me. “What about a VA hospital? They’re trained to help with this sort of thing.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” Calvin retorted angrily. “Seb. Please, just—stop. Please.” He still held my hand and turned to look at me.

  I’ll be honest, it scared the shit out of me knowing that Calvin was suffering from some pretty intense PTSD that was apparently untreated, but it was the middle of the night and not the appropriate time to argue about seeing a doctor.

  “Do you want to try to get some more sleep?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I leaned around him to set my glasses down again and lay back on the bed. “Cal, come here.”

  He obediently turned and lay down beside me, putting his head on my chest and wrapping himself around my body. I tugged the comforter back over us, and we were both quiet. I petted his head for a long time, and eventually his breathing evened out and I allowed myself to chase after sleep with him.

  THE NEXT time I woke, I wasn’t on the receiving end of a punch to the face, which was nice. It was still dark out, but I could tell from the subtle change in light through the closed blinds that it was about time to get up.

  “Morning,” Calvin grumbled.

  “You’re awake already?” I asked before yawning.

  He grunted.

  “Did you sleep much?”

  “A little,” he agreed after a moment. He rolled away and onto his back.

  I moved on my side, leaned over, and kissed his chest.

  Fuck it. Fuck all of it and everyone who said this was a bad idea, myself included.

  What I felt for Calvin was very real, and no amount of being told I couldn’t have him would sway me. Yes, I knew jumping out of one relationship and right into another was incredibly stupid. I knew what was even worse was leaving one man because he couldn’t be open about loving me for another man with the same issue, but I was too taken with Calvin to put on the brakes.

  And I knew what he felt for me was real and as intense as what I was struggling with. His shit about not being worth it wouldn’t push me away, especially seeing now that he deemed himself a poor partner due to scars of war. We all have demons. If I had to rock him to sleep every night, telling him it was okay and I loved him, I would.

  My breath caught.

  God.

  I loved him.

  There really was no turning back.

  His hand found my hair, and he hummed when I put my mouth over a nipple, sucking and gently biting. “You don’t need to do this,” he murmured.

  “Do what?” I asked while moving over to the other nipple.

  Calvin groaned quietly. “Feel bad for me.”

  I stopped and raised my head. “I don’t pity you.” I straddled Calvin’s hips and leaned down close so I could see his face. “I want to be with you.”

  His hands found my hips and slowly moved to hold my ass. “I can’t. I can’t stomach being the cause of your broken heart.”

  “You haven’t broken it, though.”

  “It’s inevitable.”

  I leaned down and pressed my cheek to his, our rough jaws rubbing against each other. “Do you want to be with me?” I asked quietly.

  His hands moved up my back and wrapped around me tight. “More than you know.”

  “Then let’s see what happens,” I replied, raising my face to find his mouth and kiss it.

  Calvin slid his hands under my shirt and pulled it up over my head before tossing it to the floor. He grabbed my ass again, pushing me down while thrusting up to grind against me. He bit my neck and started sucking the skin.

  “Oh God,” I groaned. “Cal, I need you.”

  “What do you want, baby?”

  I could feel a bashful heat spread over my face, and I dropped my forehead to his chest, nipping him in response.

  Calvin growled playfully. “You want my cock, don’t you? You want me to fuck your tight ass until you’re screaming, right?”

  I rubbed myself hard against him. “Yes, I do.”

  “I want you to suck me first.” Calvin roughly raised my head. “Get me nice and wet for you.”

  There was nothing sexier, nothing more erotic, than waking up on a Monday morning and being ordered to suck the cock of this delicious man. God, yes, I wanted to taste him so bad I could barely manage to tug his pants off in my excitement. Calvin’s erection jumped up, the head huge and already dripping. I got down and held the base while licking the salty liquid.

  Calvin groaned appreciatively.

  I wrapped my mouth around him, bobbing up and down on as much length as I could manage.

  Calvin murmured words of approval. He gripped my hair and thrust up a few times, trying to get more. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “That’s good. Suck harder.”

  I hummed in response and tightened my mouth around him, moving up and down quickly. I came back to the head, sucking hard, then soft, hard, soft, over and over.

  “Fuck! Sebastian!” Calvin pushed me off, sat up, and grabbed me into a rough kiss. His tongue pushed into my mouth, tasting himself. “Finish getting undressed,” he ordered after pulling back. He turned to the nightstand and opened the drawer, searching inside as I hastily kicked my pants off and threw them to the floor with the rest of our pajamas. Calvin turned back to me, grabbing me in another fierce kiss and tugging on my cock a few times. “Hands and knees,” he ordered.

  I moved into the requested position, waiting to hear the snap of a bottle of lube, but I didn’t.

  Instead, Calvin grabbed my asscheeks firmly, groping and pulling them apart. “Look how pretty,” he murmured.

  Then I felt his tongue pressing against my entrance. I jumped forward, but Calvin held my hips firmly as he continued thrusting his tongue in and out. I moaned quietly and dropped my head. I’d never been rimmed before, and it was exciting and bizarre and felt really good.

  Calvin stopped and bit one cheek. “Like that?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Want more?”

  I nodded.

  “I can’t hear you,” Calvin purred.

  “Yes,” I groaned. “I want more, please. Please.”

  A hand came down firmly on my ass, and I jumped again. Then Calvin’s tongue was pushing in and out, and good God, was it fucking incredible. I leaned down on my forearms and just felt. Calvin continued to lick and bite until I was a quivering mess.

  He sat up, breathing hard as he placed kisses along my spine. Then I heard the snap of the bottle, and a blunt finger pressed into me. “I love your ass,” Calvin murmured. “The way it’s sucking on my finger, desperate for more.”

  I moaned in response, pushing back to meet Calvin’s hand.

  He hushed me. “Be patient.”

  “Cal—”

  Calvin pulled his finger free and slapped my ass hard. He soothed the skin and murmured something under his breath before shoving two fingers in. He took his time to stretch and prepare me again, pausing time and again to smack my ass. It hurt in an erotic way. I’d never
experienced it before but definitely wanted it again in the future.

  “Cal,” I whispered as he pushed three fingers in and out.

  Calvin stopped and leaned over me. “You okay, baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it too rough?”

  I shook my head. “No, I like it.”

  I felt his smile as he kissed the side of my head. “Ready for my cock, then?”

  “I—uh—”

  Calvin petted my head. “No? Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to fuck me,” I insisted.

  Calvin rubbed my ass again. “You like when I slap your ass? Is that it?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly, burying my face into my arms.

  Calvin chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetie.” He moved back behind me, and I listened to the foil of a condom wrapper and more lube. The head of Calvin’s cock gently pressed against me, then eased in, breaching and filling me.

  Then he smacked me hard, and my muscles tightened instinctively around him.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned while rubbing my ass. “That’s right. You like that, don’t you?”

  I shivered and shook on my hands and knees, my cock hard as a rock between my legs. “Yes, do it again!”

  Calvin shoved in a bit more, moving slowly when I hissed and cursed under my breath. “Okay?” he murmured.

  I moaned some kind of response, glad Calvin was pushing in slow. He smacked me again when he was about halfway in, and the groan he made when I tightened around him was so incredible. I felt good knowing I was giving him the same sort of pleasure he was able to give me. I got one more hard smack before he was inside me completely.

  Calvin’s hands ran up and down my back, soothing my ass and up my sides. “Ready?”

  “Just fuck me!”

  He grabbed onto my shoulders and started pounding into me. I felt as if I were completely at his will. From behind, on my knees with my ass in the air, Calvin was able to fuck me fast and hard. Every time I shoved back to meet him, he’d smack my cheeks. They were hot and stung a little, but the pain was so fucking pleasurable, all I could do was helplessly beg for more.