I've been going through my old documents since I'm cleaning everything up on my laptop, and I came across this. I wrote it almost 3 years ago, so I thought I'd upload it before deleting the file. I'm pretty sure there's loads of oneshots that never made it to my profile, so over the next few days there might be some random oneshot uploads.
Enjoy.
Rough fingers slip under my shirt, run my skin as I stare at the ceiling. Eyes threatening to blink away the heat emitting inside the sockets.
"I love you," he whispers in my ear.
I concentrate on the swirls in the white ceiling. The sofa creaks when he moves to straddle my waist.
Once my shirt has been discarded in a heap on the floor, he moves again to gain more access to the sensitive skin on my chest. He bites and licks at me hungrily, and when I refuse to make a sound, he bites harder. Any noise is okay for him, whether or not it's a hiss of pleasure or pain doesn't matter. As long as he knows I'm here.
His tongue leaves a trail of saliva on my neck, before he attacks my lips. I let him dominate. I always do. The wet organ swipes, and I open my mouth to allow him the access he desires. The taste of tobacco fills my mouth. It's disgusting; enough to make me want to vomit, but to me, it's also a taste of love. The only taste I've ever had of it.
I can't remember when it all started. It began with little kisses on the cheek for bedtimes. Then moved onto the lips whenever I left or came home from school. Then it changed to touches and tongues. Before I knew it, I was on my back with him hanging over me. His eyes boring into me as he whispers over and over again how much he loves me, will always be there for me, and how everything's okay because he's the only one I need. I guess I sort of believed him. No one else was so determined to show me the love I'd craved since I was a little boy. And here he was, telling and showing me how much he cared. It was comforting having him there when I came home from another lonely day at school. The one person that loved me. The one person that had always and would always love me.
That started when I was twelve. I'm sixteen now and still craving his love. His show of affection. Because it was the only one I've ever had; the only one I've ever known. I know it's wrong. I know it makes me want to eject vomit every time he touches me like this, but he needs me, and I need him. I need the touches and licks that show me I'm loved, but at the same time I want to fight back. Scream for him to stop.
I want to scream right now. Tell him how much I hate it all, how much I just want to do normal things with him. Not this. Never this.
The hem of my jeans are around my ankles. Again, I've missed the chance to stop it all. Something hard digs into me, and I know he's ready.
"I love you," he whispers again, slipping in. Teeth sink into my lip, drawing blood that fills my mouth with a taste of metal, cancelling out the taste of tobacco. The taste of love.
"Don't hold back your sweet voice." His breath tickles my ear. "Let me hear how much you enjoy our love."
The ceiling blurs as he pulls out, only to slam back in. This was always the painful part. But it soon has me panting in pleasure, awaiting ecstasy.
My mouth opens to let out a moan of approval, and you kiss me while rocking back and forth.
My lover, my friend, my brother.
R&R
Ja ne
x
