Blue Dream (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 1) #Wattys2016

Blue Dream Part 9

Richard was already in bed by the time that Paul wandered through to the living area; despite the fact that Richard's back still was mostly turned against him, Paul saw Richard lift one hand in goodnight.

"G'night, Richard," Paul softly said, and smiled when he heard Richard softly repeat the salutation.

Paul had no choice then, but to leave the other alone, to wander back to his bedroom; he didn't sleep for a long time afterwards. His mind kept replaying that kiss, over and over again, and the following anger displayed by Richard that seemed aimed at someone else rather than at Paul, yet even that remembered anger did not dull his lust, nor quell the painful erection that had started sometime during the kiss he'd shared with Richard. He had no choice but to take himself in hand once again and to pleasure himself hard and fast, yet strangely that time, he felt oddly disgusted with himself, as though he'd used Richard's pain, and Richard's anger as fuel for late-night self-pleasured fumblings.

He went to sleep finally, but neither his dreams, nor his sleep in general, were restful.

*****

"Where are you going?" Paul asked, the next morning, in alarm.

He'd risen just in time to find that Richard was already awake, and in the process of stuffing what meagre possessions he had into one of his suitcases.

"I'm leaving," Richard said, but there was a lost tone to his voice, as though he didn't quite mean what he was saying, as though he didn't really want to even go.

"You can't. Where are you gonna go?" Paul asked, and Richard merely shrugged without looking at him. "Richard, look at me."

It took Richard a while to do so, yet finally, he did, eyes lifting to rest uncertainly upon Paul's face.

"Where?" Paul asked, firmly.

"I don't know. Maybe a guesthouse or something," Richard finally replied.

"You don't want to. I can see that you don't. Please stay," Paul said, and some of his sudden heartache must have been visible in his voice for Richard paused and stared openly at him. "I don't want you to go, okay? I don't know why, just yet, but I don't want you to. I feel like there's something you need help with. I wanna help. Genuinely."

"You can't. Not against this. No one really can," Richard said, even as he pushed his half packed suitcase aside with disgust.

"Let me try," Paul said, chin lifting defiantly as a counterpoint to his words.

Richard merely snorted in disgust and looked away, yet Paul was gratified to note that he still didn't move. Instead, he remained stock-still, and unyielding, an immovable force in the middle of the living room.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on, or at least not all of it, and definitely not straight away, but at least throw me a fucking bone, or something," Paul said, his frustration clear in his voice. "Anything. I'd like to think I'm your friend. Let me help."

Richard sighed and that one sound sounded like a plea, a cry for help, more than an actual shout would have done.

"Please," Paul said, uncertain that even that one word would be too much and would tip Richard over the edge into leaving.

"Fine," Richard said, but he didn't sound angry, merely tired. "But don't blame me, if you think I'm fucking crazy."

"I doubt that, but okay," Paul said, even as Flake wandered in. "Fucking hell, Flake."

"What?" Flake asked, in sudden surprise, before he picked up on the sudden tension in the air. "Jesus. I'm interrupting something. Sorry."

"No fucking shit," Paul said, and that brief outburst at least earned him an amused laugh from Richard.