Breaking Through Limits (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 16

Harry spent the entire next week avoiding his partner. He ate dinner at a different table with some of the cadets in his Military History class and made sure to only use the simulator in the regular shooting range, avoiding the Needlers' range at all costs. He practiced alone and when he was done, he showered in the communal bathroom attached to the student gym. He came back to his quarters with his hair wet every night so if Tomlinson said something about taking a shower he could prove he'd already had one. But Tomlinson never mentioned his hair. In fact, his partner never said anything to him at all anymore other than brief, impersonal remarks asking Hary to pick up his towel or turn out the lights. He spoke to Harry as he might have spoken to a stranger whom he didn't care anything about. There was no more talk about Harry's standings in the ratings and he stopped massaging Harry's hands with the special cream at night. In fact, he didn't touch  Harry at all, not even when they slept in the same bed.

At first Harry told himself that he didn't care. This was what he'd wanted in the first place, wasn't it? To be left alone, for Tomlinson to stop touching him all the time.  And yet, even though he tried to convince himself that he was fine, he knew that he missed those large, warm hands on his body. He missed Tomlinson's strong arms wrapped around him at the simulator, missed hearing that deep voice in his ear as Tomlinson stroked him. He missed having his partner at his back, in the shower and in the bed.

Now when they went to sleep Tomlinson turned away from him instead of holding  him close in the spoon position Harry had become accustomed to. The covers never seemed to be long enough anymore and he wound up shivering in the chilly room, wishing he dared cross that lonely inch of space between them on the mattress to feel Tomlinson's warmth against his bare skin, but he couldn't. He even started having dreams —nightmares, really— that he couldn't remember when he woke up. He just knew that he woke in a cold sweat and with a hard-on so intense it refused to go down.

The second time it happened he thought he heard Tomlinson muttering something in his ear. But when he woke up fully, his partner was lying on his side, turned away and snoring lightly. So obviously Tomlinson's voice has been part of his dream. Harry had turned over himself and tried to put it out of his mind, only to have the same nightmare again, whatever it was, the minute he got back to sleep.

The sudden lack of physical contact felt as if he were going on a starvation diet after eating every night at an all-you-can-eat buffet. If someone would have told him that he would not only get used to having Tomlinson touch him all the time but would actually miss it when it stopped, Harry would have told them they were crazy. But now he found himself watching other Needlers out of the corner of his eye, noticing the casual way they patted and hugged each other and missing it, missing it so damn much... it wasn't like he loved the tall, scarred cadet who had been his partner for less than a month. Or anyway, not like he loved Amanda back home. Harry didn't admit, even to himself, that he hardly ever thought of her and that when he took himself in hand it wasn't her pretty, freckled face that came to mind. As much as he tried to avoid it, it was always Tomlinson's dark, scarred visage that popped into his mind's eye at the moment of orgasm, always his deep voice telling Harry to come that echoed in his memory.

It wasn't until the end of the week that Harry decided he had to do something —that he couldn't stand it anymore. He would apologize, he decided as he soaped up under the hot spray of water in the communal bathroom. He would tell Tomlinson that he had been out of line, that he shouldn't have dragged Sabine's name into it.

I was scared, he would admit to the older cadet. I felt like we were getting in too deep. I don't know why I did what I did with you the other night in the Needlers' lounge, but I know I'm not like that. I don't like other men that way. And then, before Tomlinson could get angry, he would quickly add, But I understand that you and I have to be physically close in order to fly the Needle. So if we can just go back to the way we were... Then Tomlinson would agree and possibly say something about making up for lost time. He would push Harry down on the bed and unzip his uniform, taking his mouth in a slow, hot kiss while those large, knowing hands stroked Harry's cock until he came.