It is utterly necessary that you listen to the song first b/c it determines the entire mood of the story. Plz? It's only like 3 minutes.
This is based off of a favorite Bruce Springsteen song, okay so I changed one word in the lyrics to better fit the story…sue me. Hope you like it. 3
.com/watch?v=xzQvGz6_fvA
Hey little boy is your daddy home?
Did he go and leave you all alone?
You're sitting with your elbows on your knees, supporting a heavy head. Blond hair splits between your fingers and shield the rest of your naïve face—all except your lips. They part in a lonely pucker behind your wrists. The hard glow of hospital fluorescents wash out the navy flannel stretched over your shoulders. Two chairs are empty to your right and two to your right. I smile, not at the exhausted slump of your back, but that you'd picked the very center seat.
I snap shut the folder of my latest charge, never taking my eyes from the rectangle window. It's strange Luke, how you're out there waiting, always waiting and that in some mutated, roundabout way, I'm waiting too. Waiting for the time when finger-smudged glass panes are the only thing separating us.
I look at you, you're not looking back.
You're looking for him.
My hand rests with indecision on the cool handle, made warm as the minutes pass. With a metallic click, I swing the door open; your head lolls up from your hands. I can see the strain painted on your face in the faded dark circles beneath your eyes. Recognition flashes through your dim eyes as they sharpen slightly, realizing who I am. I walk with more confidence than I feel around you and stop with my shoes a mere inch from touching yours.
"He's gone," I say without tone, "has been for an hour now." He'd peeled off with his physical therapy confidant, some whelpy chap named Richard.
You rub the back of your neck with downcast eyes.
"He didn't tell you?" I ask half concerned but more angry that you've sat for an hour straight, no question.
"No," it comes out of your mouth like a degenerate sigh.
A flash of anger washes through me, "Doesn't that piss you off?" I demand.
He looks up at me with an inconclusive expression, "I guess it's just always been like this."
"You. Alone."
"I guess."
"That's pathetic," I snarl.
You laugh utterly without humor, "That's…" you ponder, "me."
You shrug on your jacket, and glance at me for a prolonged second, then make your way back down that hall.
"I didn't mean you," I whisper.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
I got a bad desire,
Oh oh oh, I'm on fire.
I wash my hands with a satisfied air though it does not show on my face—as expressive as a rock. I silence the splash of water, take a sanitized towel and wipe it over my hands gratefully. My ears perk to the distinctive scrape of your shoes. Craning my neck, I make out your meandering figure from the door. You scrub at your eye like there's something in it. I swear to god…you better not be crying for the guy Luke, I toss the towel somewhere—I don't know where, and trail behind you.
I whistle as if calling a dog, "So he let you off the leash?" I question, your steps falter to a stop. "Speak," I chide. Your shoulders bunch. Yes, yell—any wretched emotion besides this sallow, left-behind rut you're in wherever he's concerned.
I mockingly look around, though I know you can't see. "Your owner's not here to say no," my voice echoes down the empty hallway. You remain unresponsive, I stab one last time, "Damn, should have brought my dog whistle." You'll turn soon enough; we know your sullied pride can't take it.
Finally you thrash around; I've made it an arm's length away. Your watery eyes meet mine and boil. Before I have time to think, you shove me against the wall. My throat constricts with your proximity. The grip on my shirt tightens, but not a word spills from your oh-so-close lips. I meet your eyes boldly while a blush crawls up my collar, it's mirrored on your cheeks, which emboldens me more. Your Adam's apple bobs with a dry swallow we both hear.
I can't help but let my vision travel down the length of your ivory neck. The shirt peels open to reveal just a lick of collarbone, and then dips into the dark-blue button-up, such a sharp contrast against your skin. All the while our breathing is growing heavy, the space between us thick. I could feel your fury before, but it's leached away, leaving something much more vulnerable. Something I want to claim.
I draw my eyes back up to your face with some effort. It's tenuous, not as brash as ten seconds ago. My heart thuds painfully behind my rib cage and your hands shake slightly. I can't stand the way your lips part, pink and open, they're pulling me in with a power I can't control. Your tongue flicks out and wets them briefly, I harden in direct response, your eyes drop to my lips. I lean towards you releasing a heated sigh, but you pull back.
Just a hair's breadth away you say huskily, "Woof, you asshole."
I surge forward to crash my lips into yours. A sharps breath tickles my chin as you throw your hands up to wring my hair. I eagerly slide my one hand up your back and the other down to steady your trembling. But I won't stop. I can't stop.
Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?
Can he do to you the things that I do?
You let out a breathy noise that churns my gut with arousal. I yank away with a smack and steer you towards an empty room, mildly observing the dumbstruck look on your face.
There's no fight as I press you to the closed door behind us, grinding our hardness against one another in the dark. No stopping when you moan hotly into my shoulder at the contact. No falter while I unsnap your pants then unstrap my buckle and fly. No hesitation when I guide you to the hospital cot, sucking down your neck and chest. I reach under your briefs and grip you, tight and hard, rubbing incessantly over the tip. A needy moan fills the room. But then that's when your hand grips mine. Between labored breaths you say weakly, "Noah," it sounds like a question, I don't know to whom.
I'm achingly hard and I can feel you hot and pulsing through our combined palms. Your grip is weakened with lust, I lead us in pumping you up and down, you sag against the flimsy mattress with a groan. It's a sweet, desperate sound I want to swallow whole. I lean into you, forcing you on your back. Your legs hang off the edge of the bed whilst I crouch over you, keeping a strong rhythm of strokes—just listening to your staccato breaths.
These are mine. I'm the one causing them. I'm the one quickening your pulse. I'm the one making blood rush to your cock. I'm the one making your sleepy eyes glow with want.
Not him.
You're getting closer. I feel your stomach muscles tense as I run my free hand to and fro on your abdomen. With a quick maneuver, your hands are pinned above your head beneath mine, bringing our faces close. You're startled in a dazy way, but not afraid. Our breathing beats against one another's lips when I say thickly, "When was the last time?".
Your mouth opens in confusion, "What?". I rake my teeth down your neck causing you to buck up and meet my hips.
"When was the last time he did this to you?" I demand somewhere near your clavicle.
I resume jerking you again, keeping you restrained with only one hand. The inattention has made you sensitive enough to whine at the touch. I hold my dick to my belly, keeping myself at bay. The needy cries you make, Luke…. The cot creaks as you arch for more contact. I oblige while bringing up your legs and spreading you.
Diverting all of my attention to entering that near-virgin pucker, I open you, squeezing your buttocks with bated breath. Submissive limbs quiver as they fight the urge to spasm, I ignore your obvious distress and prod the tightness of your hole. Your body shrinks away for a small second, then in abandonment, you splay yourself some more.
You've said 'yes' without using a single word.
With a barely contained sense of need, I slither up your body. All the while ghosting my fingertips around the ring of muscle. I want to see your face. Your mouth is ajar and glistening, light perspiration darkens your hair and mats your bangs. Limp arms remain stretched above you, ritually clenching the sheets while your eyes stay shut.
"Luke," I whisper to your lips. You shiver. Your plump bottom lip is sucked between mine, willing entrance. Your mouth reacts in kind, blossoming for my taking. Gripping your neck, I tilt your head back, deepening the kiss all the more.
"Luke," I say more firmly, but unable to keep the hard passion out of it. You flutter your eyes open, only to slam them shut and moan deeply as I slip a finger inside.
I hover near your ear and ask again, "When was the last time he did this to you?".
You collect your breath and coil around me, "Who?" your voice breaks. A smile disrupts my face. Exactly.
"No one." I suck on your neck, adding a second digit. You envelop me warmly, bringing a hand to secure me against you.
"No one," I murmur.
You're rocking on my fingers as I stretch you out. You moan with abandon, like it's been pent up your whole life.
I can take you higher,
Oh oh oh, I'm on fire.
It's become harder to breathe and I pant uncontrollably, losing myself in the way you writhe in pleasure. Unable to control it, I grab my dick in my fist. I close my eyes to absorb the scorching velvet inside you, encasing my three fingers and my own rough palm ministrating, listening to our breath intercept one another.
Suddenly your hand grasps my cock, I gasp painfully, letting go. My eyelids creak open to gaze down at you, a hazy smile in your eyes as you stroke my length. I groan when you speed up, growing weak enough to pitch forward, meeting heaving chest to chest.
You've moved me to your hole that I'd abandoned. Calculating I won't last much longer, I bury myself in you, tearing moans from us equally. I penetrate deeper and deeper until…you shatter with a cry, coming apart beneath me.
And I come apart because of you.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby,
Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley
Through the middle of my soul.
There are soft words. Stiff pauses. Muffled footsteps, increasing in volume as you make towards the door. Your arm flashes up in half surrender and half denial. You run the other through your hair and raise your voice to a pitch I can just hear.
"You didn't—don't want me," it's tinged with long suffering pain. I flinch for you, watching your profile struggle to make words come out.
You don't know I'm observing you. Seeing both of you. You and him. I stumbled quite inadvertently on his room. He's being discharged. And I can see you both through the window.
He squints with new eyes, gripping his heart. I marvel at his ability to find it finally. My lip curls at the previous indifference he'd shown you just one week ago. But now he's reaching out to you. You waver. Unsure.
Don't be unsure Luke.
"I always want you," he says harshly. The blinds shake as he forcibly pins you to the wall, devouring your mouth in on fell motion. My heart jetties and unadulterated hate courses through my veins until I'd think myself ready to burst. You choke on a mangled cry when he grabs you roughly through your jeans, but you don't push away.
And that's where it slices me. Because that cry doesn't taste right. Bile rises in my throat, I shove it down with a swallow. His fingers are crawling up your shirt as he attacks your swollen mouth…I pivot and walk away, pretending the stars in my vision are from lack of sleep.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet,
And a freight train running through the middle of my head.
Your voice rings out, reverberating through the very marrow of my bones, pushing me harder. Squirming and grabbing anything to transfer your uncontainable pleasure to, I piston my hips faster—heightening your voice to a new octave. Sweat glistens on your rippling muscles. Your arms are failing you, I hold you still by your waist, not missing a beat. My mouth is becoming parched with the labored breathing, but a deep moan from you makes me salivate.
I count down the bumps of your spine like the Stations of the Cross—I'm no Christian, but I could make a religion out of you. Out of your eyes, your skin, your lips, that almost inaudible whimper you just made….
I've always wanted to take you like this. A primal part of my brain demands it, and I guess some part of yours submisses to it.
Your head hangs low between winged shoulder blades, your biceps brace you up and a knee curls into your stomach. I slam into you relentlessly. I've come to the edge, I can see you're close too by the way the tendons in your neck strain. I tuck two fingers under your chin to turn your panting face towards mine.
Your lips clearly form my name. 'Reid' they plead silently. I can see the begging in your coffee irises, but I've never heard that single syllable uttered before—
My head jerks so hard that my neck cracks. Sheets are tangled around my legs and stick to me like a second skin. I'm hard as fuck.
I flip off the warmth of my bed covers and whip my head around to check the time. "1:32" the stark red digits read. Mechanically, I stand. But hesitate, knowing inside where my body was headed as I lifted myself from the bed, but not entirely sure I should give my consent. Time argued no, but the searing flame in my groin argued just as strongly for the yes.
I shut off all of my brains higher function. Emptying my mind of the indomitable amount of calculations zipping through, I fumble my keys and make a distracted path to the door. My toes catch in the carpet a few times before I have enough wit left to shove my bare feet into some shoes. It seems at the blink of an eye I've snapped my seat belt in place and cranked the car into gear. The pent up breath I didn't realize I was withholding is released as I back out slowly from the driveway.
Cool my desire,
Oh oh oh, I'm on fire.
I'd cut the engine some 10 minutes ago. The steam rolling me onward has fizzled out and now I'm here debating whether the wood of your back door is oak or pine. My feet refuse the simple command of walking in trade for becoming more and more immobile by the second.
What am I doing here?
Your window's to the left, I know because once in passing, you mentioned how often you ended up sleeping on the couch. I would never have remembered something as useless as that in a time where ten gallon hats were more common than the amount of Snyders in this fucking town. That's what you've made of me Luke. You're probably sleeping unconcerned…or with Noah….
I lurch forward abruptly and rap my knuckles once, hard against the door. Oh shit. My legs are failing me again. I hear a rustle. I hear and owl. I hear leaves hissing in the branches. I hear my own heartbeat loud as a thunderstorm.
But what I really hear is padding footsteps.
The door sighs open. And there you are, disheveled and mussed from a sleep disturbed. Your hair piled messily along your right temple and a white tee stretched in two different directions.
"Reid?"Your voice musky with slumber. My nerves flare in excitement. There it is.
I envelope you, lips searing against yours. The initial keen of surprise makes my lips upturn in a miniscule smile. I press the small of your back to my aching body, blistering with desire.
You press back. I pull away to look into your eyes, dark with the same craving I'm positive mine contain, until you again attach our lips. I'm on fire.
Oh oh oh, I'm on fire,
Oh oh oh, I'm on fire.
