Well, I haven't been on here in a while!
Here's the thing: I'm planning on updating IQAWD soon but that is definitely not my top priority. I haven't thought about IQAWD Kendall or James in almost six months, but I have a feeling that they'll pressure me into finishing their little adventure for them. I have plans for a sequel, too, if I ever get around to it. On another note, I've been writing a lot. I have a few chaptered stories lying around (including this one right here) that I've been working on. I'm more comfortable with my writing now, and in the six months I had "off", I learned some things about my writing and what I should do better. Over all, I believe that's I've really improved and I've learned that writing is what I want to do when I grow up.
I'm really excited for all of the people waiting/wanting to read my new stuff, so here I am!
Oh, and the title is from the song "Misguided Ghosts" by Paramore.
Thanks for being there for me guys :)
"I've never wanted you so much in my life than I do now," I breathe out slowly, my low voice engulfing the small room with unnatural warmth.
"I want you so much, actually, that I would definitely put on a show for you," I squeak out, opening my eyes and looking at the dark ceiling.
Who am I trying to impress? Oh yeah, that's right.
No one.
The only source of light is the blinds, which are casting a shadow on the wall beside me.
I'm itching for something - someone to take me, someone to take me away to a far away place and love me.
I'm alone in this room that shouldn't have the right to be called a bedroom, and oddly enough, I'm okay with it.
It feels like someone is watching me.
I beg for the hands-on activities I love, smiling when I feel that certain closeness rise up in the bottom of my stomach.
Tonight is no different.
I begin to think of everything I could consider sexually pleasing, but it's just not doing it for me.
I need to feel the warmth engulf my own body.
I lay there for a moment, playing out this reoccurring scene in my head.
And just like that, I have this remarkable ache down there.
I have to relieve it.
Shimmying out of my boxers, I sigh as I slowly wrap my hand around my member.
It's all so familiar, but in the same sense, it isn't.
Closing my eyes, I imagine it's another person who's doing this to me, slowly getting me off.
It is always the same person, with the chocolate-brown hair that's swept to the right side and those smiling hazel eyes.
He's beautiful, oh so beautiful; and he's all mine, which makes it a thousand times better.
This time when he enters my mind, however, he's showing off his gorgeous smile and a new haircut, which has his luscious locks gelled up in the front.
I can't help it.
So I begin to jerk harder, playing out this scenario in my head.
"You look..." I begin to say to him, but I can't finish my thought.
"I look what? Atrocious? Hideous?" He's playing with me, those kissable lips showing off those pearly whites.
"No," I laugh, "you look perfect."
Soon after, he's blushing. "You're just saying that."
I step closer to him, running a hand through my hair.
"I'm not, actually."
He's biting his lip and giving me this look, making me want to tackle him and run my mouth along that perfect face.
With a blink, he's right there beside me, running a hand underneath my shirt and pressing his lips to my neck.
"I thought you would never ask," he breathes against my collarbone.
"Technically? No, I didn't. Mentally, yes, I certainly did."
I run a hand through his hair and pull his face up to my own, letting the fact that he's mine settle in.
"I never got your name," he looks me in the eye, setting one hand on my crotch and the other on my belt.
As I help him with my belt, I reply, "To you, I'll go by anything; but to the average dope, I go by Kendall."
"What a beautiful name," he smirks, unbuttoning my pants and slipping his hands into my boxers.
"I still don't know yours." The forcefulness in my voice is strong and I'm surprised I could actually be that straightforward.
"Well, Kendall," he sighs slowly, albeit in a content manner. His fingers are slowly pushing my boxers down and I want to yell to the world that I'm getting laid tonight.
In my dreams.
I study him slowly, my eyes spending the most time on his full lips.
"It's..." Without finishing, he licks his lips thoroughly and ducks his head down into my lap. As he goes to work, I'm shaking, my toes curling at his slightest movement.
Suddenly, my ol' reliable hand is doing its job very well, and it's all too soon before my real toes curl up and I release, moaning a name along with it.
James.
James.
James?
The love of my life, with a shitty name like that? What is he, some douchebag from the prep school a few miles away?
I'm laying there in the aftermath, my hand still covered with my lust- and anger?
How can I be angry?
I'm pondering some of life's toughest questions when I hear someone speak.
"Prep schools aren't that bad, actually. I've been to one. Sucking dick there wasn't as terrible as you'd think it would be, either."
Suddenly, I jolt wide awake, my body shaking in the process.
