|He rouses me with gentle strokes to my thigh, rubbing his
hands along our tangled legs. The shades are pulled and the
lights dim; a forbidden afternoon, spent tangled in the
sheets. I want to pull away, remove myself from those
hungry, sleepy eyes but I don't. I never do. He knows
that he has what I need and as long as he's willing to give it to
me, I'll continue to stay.
He seems so different lying there; dark lashes against his pale
cheeks, looking so bruised and innocent. The way they
all see him, inept and clueless; so different than what I've
seen. When I see him during the day, it's so hard to not think of
the way his head draws back in pleasure; how his mouth is no
longer soft and inviting and the words that come from those lips
are not so polite. And how my name sounds forced through
clenched teeth. And what he does to me. For me.
I hate myself for wanting this, needing this thing. He's
never questioned it once, simply giving me what I ask for.
Accepting his indifferent place in my life, making me
forget. Allowing me to remember. Unable to comprehend
what goes on behind his bright eyes, I wonder if he knows.
But then, when I'm finally ready to pull away, he makes it clear
he understands and he'll continue. Beyond that, I've
discovered, I don't care.
Smiling, he pulls me to his mouth, tasting me with his hot
tongue, licking at my lips, my chin. His mouth is warm and
sweet, like heavy syrup, and underlying it all, I can sense the
faintly bitter bite of myself. I harden from that taste
alone, remembering the feel of his open mouth swallowing me,
devouring me; when he strung me out like a junkie vying for his
His hands are already wandering over me, gentle and urgent,
flexing their power over me, making me moan deep in my
throat. He's moved to my throat and he pauses briefly,
inhaling against my shoulder, whispering my name. Tightening his
grip slightly, he scrapes his teeth over my flushed skin.
I shudder and he moves on, capable hands stroking my flanks,
teasingly. He handles me like a rider handles his mount,
with a firm hand, quieting my nervous shivering, until I can do
nothing but lay quivering beneath him. Still, he probes my body,
relearning every square inch. Thorough, like a Mountie
should be, until there's no place that he hasn't touched or
tasted or breathed in and my skin is vibrating.
He caresses my stomach with light teasing touches, dipping into
the recess of my belly button with his tongue. Holding me
down, he nips at my hips, laving the crease of my thigh with his
wet mouth, his breath scalding me. For a moment, I feel like my
body is an altar and he lays before me, supplicating and needy.
Why does he have to touch me this way? Like I'm a treasure
that must be protected and loved and treated so tenderly.
Touching me in ways that no one will ever be able to match.
I hate myself.
I can feel my cock throb in delicious time with his hum as he
sucks me into his mouth. Another quick lick and he rolls me
over, giving me the chance to get away and I take it, like I
always take it. Struggling to my knees and kicking back,
but he's there, with his heavy weight and his strength and he
pushes inside me, hot breath against my back, curling about me
like a second skin.
Pushing my leg out of his way, pinning my arms tightly to my own
chest, he gives me no respite. The hard stretch of my body
about him makes my shiver. I writhe and he pushes harder, forcing
me onto my belly, covering me in a way that Ray never could,
forcing his will on my body. Bigger, stronger, harder.
He knows how much it excites me, to feel his hard nipples rubbing
against my back, the moist breathy noises that he makes at my
neck. How his teeth feel as they pull at the skin on my
nape, marking me, making me his. Long slow thrusts,
angled and deep, driving me to the edge. Short hard
strokes, pushing me further into the bed. Making me beg and
plead and cry his name.
His hand moves to grip me, heavy and sweaty. He
swirls his thumb about the leaking slit and then brings it to his
mouth, licking away my precum before offering his fingers to
me. I draw them in and chew at the tips, tasting our
sweat and desire, before he returns them to my cock.
He squeezes me beneath the glans, pumping in counter rhythm to
his movements, gnawing on my shoulder blades. Tells me with
his throaty voice to fuck myself on his body.
And I do everything he demands.
I beg with my body and my voice. I let the feeling wash
over me and through me, until I can't even stop the tears that
leak between my closed lids and down my cheeks. My one
brief moment of regret, that he alone will never be enough.
He pulls my head around and laps at the salt. Drinking them like
nectar and that small thing makes my balls tighten and my back
arch. My gyration forces him to release my chin and push my
face into the pillow. Strong hand cupping my skull, the
soft sweet scent of the down filling my nose, air being pounded
out of my lungs with his body. I'm dizzy now, a
beautiful red haze covers my eyes, and my body betrays me.
Struggling for air, fighting him, but he's strong and heavy, and
I never have a chance.
My ears roar, my heart pounds, my lungs ache, and I swear I
can feel each thread in the sheets beneath my fingers. Then
red haze is turning a lazy black; I can see us, his beautiful
tight body holding me down as he thrusts. For one crazy sweet
moment, everything is as clear as it was that day.
A report so loud in my ears. Ray hitting the ground, limp and
Victoria, older and empty-eyed. The small lovers murmur she
makes when I snap her neck.
Ray's faint voice telling me that...
Body jerking, I come and his timing is perfect. There is
the sudden rush of sweet cold air filling my lungs and the hot
spatter of him inside me. His hoarse, shaking voice
telling me to breathe.
Listening to the voice fade in the distance and the pain in my
heart take hold again, I stroke Turnbull gently on the cheek and
lie my thanks to him. One day, some day, he'll be too late, and
the last thing I'll hear is Ray, telling me he loves me.
I have all the time in the world to get it right.