A/N - I should start a pool for bets on what it is. 

Bit of naughty scomiche in this one, nothing too graphic (sorry guys lol)

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My nightmares were gone. I had had nothing but dreamless, blissful sleep since Mitch had found his way back into my arms. With him next to me, I had nothing to fear. He was my safety. 

My nightmares had ended, but Mitch's came frequently. 

Every night I woke to silence and yet I knew that something was wrong. His face would be contorted in pain, his fingers tightening painfully around my arm. His breathing would be erratic, but he never made a sound. He simply clenched his jaw tightly, his head tossing from side to side, eyes dancing behind closed eyelids. 

It was a horrible sight. I’m not sure what is worse, having horrible nightmares yourself or watching the one you love suffering through them. 

It always took awhile to wake him, but I quickly learned the ways to bring him back to awareness. 

The first time it happened I tried to pry his strong fingers from my arm. This had resulted in them tightening, almost unbearably. He rolled, quicker than anything I’ve ever seen, on top of me, his eyes open and full of something I’d never seen before. Anger? Fear? 

No. Pure hatred.

The fingers of his other hand closed around my throat.

It took him a few moments, but as soon as he realized it was me he quickly released my neck and my, by then brightly colored, arm. He frantically tried to make sure I was alright while trying to catch his breath. The apologies spilled from his lips, but I wasn’t angry. I was shaken, understandably, but I was fine. I wanted to know if he was alright, but he just looked at me and lost it.

That night was the first time I’d ever seen Mitch break down. He collapsed onto my chest and cried, clinging to me like I was his only lifeline. He muttered something into my chest about missing me, something about trying to get away. He was too upset for me to try and ask questions, so I simply held him against me, rubbing his back, whispering comforting words.  That was the first time I’d ever had to be the strong one. I’m not sure I was very good at it, but I tried. I tried for him. 

The nightmares came every night for that next week and a half. I quickly learned to wake him by either speaking to him or kissing him. Both methods let him know that it was me, and he would wake much more peacefully. The tears came every night, and every night I held him and let him know that he was safe and that I loved him. 

Finally, one day I pulled the courage to ask more. 

I wanted to know, so maybe I could help him. I wanted to help ease his pain.

I just....needed to know. 

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“I’m not sure what I want to do with it.” 

I looked up at him standing in front of the mirror, running his fingers through his hair.

“Why do you need to do anything with it?” 

“I dunno. I just want to make sure it looks ok. What do you think I should do?” He smiled as my hands slid around his waist and my lips sought out the back of his neck. 

“I think that you look amazing no matter what you do.” My eyes met his as I let my chin rest on his shoulder. 

His eyes moved from mine, a bit embarrassed, and I grinned as the slight blush crept to his cheeks. I tightened my arms around him and held him close. 

“You know its true.” My lips found his neck again and I breathed in his scent. He closed his eyes and just smiled as he leaned back against me, his hands on top of mine. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck and he laughed softly. 

That moment was perfect. 

We stayed just like that for a few moments, just enjoying the feel of the person we loved being so close. 

But I had a million questions flying around in my brain. They’d been multiplying and soon, there was going to be no more room left. 

I needed more answers. 

I sat my chin on his shoulder again and his eyes opened to meet mine in the reflection. 

Mitch always knew how to read me. He always seemed to know what I was thinking, even if I hadn’t revealed a thing. 

This time was no exception. His smile faltered until it fell completely. 

“Scottie, I don’t know if you’re…ready to hear-” 

“You have to trust me. Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter to me. I won’t go anywhere, but I need to know. I need something.” 

He knew it was true. He was just putting it off as long as he possibly could. 

He turned in my arms to face me. There was something in his eyes again, but it was something I had seen before. I recognized it immediately. 

Fear. Apprehension. 

My heart tightened in my chest. The last time I had seen that look, I had lost him for 6 years. I couldn’t go through that again. He opened his mouth to speak, but it didn’t deliver bad news, but something completely unexpected at that moment. 

“Kiss me. Kiss me like you need me.” His eyes pleaded with mine. I didn’t understand, but I did as he asked. 

The more I kissed him, the more needy I became. 

He held onto me, fingers finding a hold wherever they could. His hands slid over my arms, grasping  them. They moved to slide over my back, the back of my neck. 

He kissed me with more desperation than I’d ever felt from him. I didn’t know at the time why he was doing this. If he was trying to distract me, then he was doing a damn good job of it. 

His tongue danced with mine. I was the first to pull away, for lack of breath. 

His eyes stared into my own. I’ll never forget the mixture of emotions that showed on his face and deep in the brown of those eyes. 

“Make love to me. Love me and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” 

I would have done it anyway. I never needed an excuse to love him, but the promise of answers, eased my mind for that moment.  

I led him to the bed, and everything seemed to slow down. I reached out to undress him, but he stopped my hands with his own. I didn’t get a chance to question, as they moved to my shirt and lifted it off of me. His hands seemed to touch me everywhere. It was like he was trying to memorize me like he always memorized everything else. 

It was slow, and beautifully agonizing. His fingertips were like a fire on my skin, and I needed more. 

I told him so, but still he went painfully slow. 

His fingers made sure to canvas every inch of my body and then his mouth and tongue. It wasn’t like he was trying to please me, but again... burn it all into his memory. 

He’d taken me into his mouth and his eyes watched my face with the same intensity. Every sound I made seemed to echo in my ears as he moved, oh so slowly. I didn't think he was ever going to stop teasing. None of it was enough. I needed more.

My fingers dug into the bedding below me, and I resorted to begging and whining, pleading for it. 

Finally he slid inside of me and things still went slow to start with. His eyes never left mine, his fingers laced with my own. 

I felt worshipped. I felt beautiful and important. 

Try as he might to keep things slow, I continued to beg...  I begged to be used. 

Gradually he increased his pace. 

I wanted to slide my hands over him, to touch him, but his hands held mine in place. He needed this for some reason, and he needed it to be just like this. 

I never could say no to him. I let him do with me as he pleased. I belonged to him and he had every right to my body. I think my release was more intense than it had ever been. I felt like I was scattering throughout the room, and my voice mixed with Mitch as he rode out his own. 

I don’t know why, but I wanted him to feel that way. I wanted him to feel the way he’d just made me feel. 

We lay for a few minutes, just basking in the afterglow, but I could think of nothing but touching him. He seemed surprised when I climbed over him and captured his lips with my own. 

I treated him exactly as he’d treated me, and though it took so much willpower not to just claim him, I managed to go just as agonizingly slow as he had. 

Touching the perfection of Mitch's body, sliding my fingers over his chest, his stomach, his legs… his back, his everything… it was like I’d been given the most wonderful, beautiful present and I just couldn’t stop touching it. 

I understood then the reason he’d gone so slowly. It was a beautiful thing to just behold, to touch, to taste. There was a beauty to appreciating every inch of him. I adored him and I tried to show him just how much I did.

The slower I went, the more I savored every moment with him. I savored the sounds slipping from between his lips, I savored the way his eyes fluttered when I touched him the right way, I savored the way his hands would grip at the sheets, or the back of my head, or whatever skin he could find at the moment.

I savored the way my name sounded as it escaped when I slid inside of my lover. I savored the love in his eyes as they locked with mine and I intertwined our fingers. 

I savored the three most important words that Mitch yelled with his release. 

I understood then why they call it making love.

We lay in each other’s arms again. Everything else seemed to disappear except for each other. It was another perfect moment. Perfect moments only ever existed with Mitch. After all... he was my perfection. 

He smiled up at me lazily, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I love you…” he repeated. 

“I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved or will love anything.” The sadness and fear seemed to return to his eyes again. I wondered if I had said something wrong, but then I remembered my questions. 

Apparently, so had he. 

“Scott, there’s something about me that I haven't told you.” 

The fear in his eyes reflected in my own. With that simple sentence fear gripped me like an icy fist. I was terrified, but I nodded for him to continue. 

It took him a moment, but he did. 

The more he talked, the more holes filled themselves in. 

The more he talked, the more unbelievable it all sounded.

The more he talked, the tighter he held onto me, the fear in his eyes intensifying.

The more he talked......the more I wished he hadn’t.