Disclaimer: All I currently own is a cell phone, a pack of gum and a toothbrush.
Enjoy.
When It's Over
He hates himself when it's over.
In the heat of the moment it feels right. Body to body. Sweat glistening. Skin burning with fiery rage.
It feels right.
But then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.
And he hates himself when it over.
He'd told himself he wouldn't let it happen again.
He'd promised himself to not allow this man to take advantage of him like this again.
But was he really being taken advantage of?
Did he not what this?
He knows that he does.
He knows he wants this. So badly.
But only before. And during.
Because that's when it feels right.
That's when he knows, 'this is how it should be'.
But in that moment just after,
And the many moments that follow,
That's when he truly hates himself.
Because it's happened again.
And there was nothing he could have done.
No. There was something. He could have said no.
…
But the truth was, he wants this.
Every time.
Because he wants to feel.
And in those few blissful moments, he does feel.
And it feels wonderful.
The regret doesn't come until after.
Because the fires are cooling.
The sweat is drying.
His breathing is almost back to normal and he hates himself.
He wishes he'd not let it happen.
He wishes he'd said no.
But he loves this man.
He loves this man who sees him as more than just a sex toy.
He can not wait to get home and wash this night off of him.
But he knows he'll never be able to.
That smell will never wash off.
He is plagued with this scent.
He loves it though.
He loves smelling like him.
Coffee and sawdust.