Part 8

I helped him shower since his arm was in plaster. Then I made us some sandwiches. He took a pill because his hand was starting to hurt. We went to the bedroom and I helped him tuck into the blanket.

"Perth, come here. Don't be so far away. I miss you. I need you," he said.

"I'm afraid I'll hurt your hand," I admitted.

"Perth, please. I don't care. I need you," he said and pulled me to his lips.

"Tata," I whispered to stop him, even though I wanted him so badly.

"Please, Perth, please. I want you to take me. I want to feel that you still want me. I have to know I'm still yours and you're still mine," he said, his eyes full of tears.

"I have to know that I didn't fuck us up," he whispered.

"Baby, no. Don't say that. I'm still here. I will always be here. I will always be yours. There is no P'Win or hate or threats or bad comments in the world that can chase me from you. There are no ghostship stories that will make me leave you. There is no one I could love the way I love you," I assured him.

Tears ran down his cheeks, but he pulled me toward him and kissed me passionately like we hadn't seen each other for weeks. His left hand traveled up my back to my ass. He grabbed the hem of my black boxers and tried to pull them down. He was demanding and had no intention of letting go.

"Perth, please. Don't make me beg you to take me," he whispered between kisses.

"But be gentle," he added.