You're sliding your glasses off and feeling for a table to set them on in the dark when it hits you. The last time you felt for that table, Dave was on top of you. That was yesterday. You find it hard to wrap your head around the fact that you will never get the chance to feel Dave's body on top of yours ever again.
You will never get to hear Dave's voice in your ear, telling you how much he wants you and how hard he is and how he's dying to get inside you. Give it to you hard and fast and unmercifully.
You will never run your fingers through his soft blond hair, or along his faint freckles. You'll never be able to trace the scars adorning his body from various accidents with swords.
It's all gone. All in the past now.
"Dave," you whisper, rolling onto your back. "God... damn..." You throw an arm over your face, squeezing your eyes shut. You want to cry, but you can't bear to.
You can almost feel his soft lips on your neck, and his tongue grazing the most sensitive spot. Like he was still here, pleasuring you. Pushing you over the edge.
You feel heat flood to your cock, and you take in a breath. This can't happen... this is wrong. Suddenly, you're helplessly aroused at the thought of Dave thrusting into your ass, hitting your prostate at just the right angle.
You try reminding yourself that Dave is dead. No avail.
Your erection is now straining against your boxers, and you curse out loud. With hesitant hands you slide your underwear off and grab your cock, pumping slowly but firmly, like Dave used to do.
"Fuck..." you pant. Your toes curl as you slide your hand faster up and down your shaft. Your mind fills with thoughts of Dave's skin pressed to yours, warm and soft. Thoughts of your cock hitting the back of his throat. Thoughts of him inside of you, grabbing your dark hair to steady himself as his thrusts went deeper and deeper.
You turn over onto your stomach, breathing fast. Your hand is too slow and clumsy. You've experienced much better.
You roll your hips against the bed, moaning softly at the friction from the sheets. You then move to rocking up and down, like you used to grind against Dave.
You try to imagine that the bed is Dave underneath you. That the firmness of the mattress is actually his erection against yours. Your heartbeat quickens, and the sensation of near orgasm hits you. You clench your fists, going fast and rough against the sheets until you feel your cum pulsating through your cock, splattering against the bed. Your leg muscles tighten, and your mouth parts.
After a few seconds, your open your eyes to the mess on your bed. Something inside of you collapses.
Tears well up in your eyes.
You realize that you're alone. Dave is not here to comfort you, massage your back, whisper sweet sayings into your ear after you had climaxed. Nor is he here to help you strip off the stained bedding and throw it into the washing machine, then sit down with you for hours of browsing the internet.
You're alone. Staring at the mess you made from some sick fantasy you conjured up from past experiences with a dead boy.
Swiping at your eyes, you rip the sheets off and throw them on the floor. You pull a spare blanket up to your chin and do your best to forget.
Dave is never coming back.