His reflections
had distracted him for a moment. He was
startled when Cody pulled off him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t. It hurts too much. He … he hurt me. He didn’t prep me. I dunno.
I don’t think it’ll ever be right again.” Cody sat on the edge of the bed, deliberately
avoiding Luigi’s eyes.
Luigi put his arm
round Cody’s waist. “There’s more than
one way to make love, Coads.”
Cody ignored him,
his regard steadily on the carpet.
“Come, love, let
me show you,” coaxed Luigi.
Still Cody
wouldn’t speak.
Luigi wanted to
explain to Cody the insights he’d just gained.
But he didn’t have the right words.
His feelings were so sure, his perceptions so certain, and yet he found
himself tongue-tied.
“Cody, love, it’s
about … well … love and caring. Sex is …
nice … but what really matters is whether you love or not.
Cody muttered,
“And I’m not very good at that, am I?
Look at how I treated you and Phillippa.
That wasn’t love, was it?”
He turned to look
at Luigi and the anger and self-contempt in his expression made Luigi flinch.
“Whatever you
said—and didn’t say—I knew you loved
me. I knew it when we made love, I knew
it when you smiled at me, I knew it when you came through that door after work,
and your face would light up when you saw me.”
Luigi sat next to Cody on the edge of the bed, his arm still round the
other man’s waist. “You did some things
wrong, Coads, but only some. Don’t beat
yourself up, love.”
“I deserved what
happened to me. It was just.”
“Rubbish!
No one deserves that. No
one! To be tortured? Nearly killed? To be drugged, attacked with a
knife, have pieces cut out of you, and barely escape with your life? No, Cody, you didn’t deserve any of that! None of it, OK?”
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