8. In Return
Anger is a strange emotion.
No, an anti-emotion.
It channels itself into, disguises itself as other things, so it can be released somehow.
It can be anything. Energy. Sadness. Lust. The key, though, is not mistaking it for any of these things. The key for anything is almost always just knowing. And I knew. Oh yes, I fucking knew, and so did Craig. So why did we blindly feed its absolute need to get out-and in this way? Couldn't we play a sport, or throttle a stuffed animal, or punch a pillow?
Craig's fingers grasped numbly at my waist, the short breaths that left his lips rising visibly in the frigid air. I shivered at the intense cold, pressing against him in a desperate attempt at warmth. His lips grazed past my ear, mouthing blindly at whatever skin they could find. And moaned, this beautiful fucking sound that just made we want him.
Made me angry, and I knew.
My hands were clasped behind his neck as I slid my leg up to further entangle us, feeling an impatient nudging against my inner thigh. My back was pressed firmly to the dividing wall between the two grimy bathroom stalls. And Craig's tongue was in my mouth, oh god, and I hated him for it.
Passively, I let Craig do as he pleased, shutting my eyes and letting the deep-striking pain and the-the ecstasy take over when he fucked me, hard and rough and angry.
I let him kiss me afterwards and let him hold me, and left the freezing bathroom stall when the bell rang to signal the end of fifth period. Craig skipped sixth and I went to class, sitting listlessly in my chair just wanting Craig's hands on me, all over me.
Again.
The next day we presented our project (the physics one) and got our lovely grade for being such ardent overachievers (D-) and went home (after convening in the in the bathroom so I could suck him off) and did absolutely nothing.
After not-concentrating on the homework I was supposed to be getting done, Craig, out of nowhere, showed up at my doorstep.
I immediately choked back We Don't Want Any Cookies or something similar, as well as other urges. I wanted to step forward and grab a fistful of his black, black hair and then decide whether to kiss him smack across the mouth or deck him. Though my pride, as per usual, won over any other want.
"Craig?" I asked instead in contemptuous disbelief.
He nodded. "Kyle."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here…so we can work on our physics project."
"Excuse me?" I sounded like such a bitch, but whatever.
He watched me, smirking obnoxiously. "The physics project."
"B-b-but we finished that," I stuttered uselessly, internally kicking myself for saying such a remarkably stupid thing. Of course he's not that forgetful; he's just trying to…I don't even know what he has up his thick blue sleeve.
Something, though.
"We need to make some final adjustments," he said, voice low and thick yet totally un-sexy because of the lameness in what he was saying.
"Dude."
"Well, is anybody home?"
"Yes." I folded my arms across my chest stubbornly. I was obviously home, for one. I wasn't outright lying to him.
He raised a dark, slender eyebrow. "Really."
"Really." I ran a hand through my dark red hair, leaning against the side of the doorway casually and blocking his view inside the house.
"Doesn't look like it."
"Does to me."
He looked back at me challengingly. It was on. "Lemme see."
"No."
"If you were telling the truth, you'd want me to look."
I sighed. He had a point. "No," I defended weakly, " I just don't want you in my house. So fuck off, please."
"No." He pushed past me into the warmth of the room, looking around with a smirk. My heart sank down slowly into my stomach as he surveyed the area with a less than caring eye.
"Doesn't look like there's anyone here," he repeated, staring holes into my face. "Though I suppose there is now."
I followed him in, letting him reach back and lock the door. There was no point in fighting him, especially after what happened last time.
"So, what'll it be, Kyle?" He asked, voice an arrogant drawl. "The couch or the bed?"
I continued to stubbornly resist. "Neither."
"The kitchen table?"
No.
"The shower."
NO.
"Ooh, I know, the front lawn."
"No, fuck off, I don' wanna go anywhere."
His face lit up at my mistake, smile stretching evilly as he kept gaining power. "Well why didn't you say earlier you just wanna go at it here? I totally understand if you just can't wait."
I let him speak, still insufferably cocky as he played with one of the strings on his hat.
"That's not what I meant."
Obviously.
"Ah well. Take your clothes off."
Skeptical, I raised an eyebrow, posing the eternal question: "What's in it for me?"
"Besides having an ass full of my hot cock?"
I glared at him, thoroughly unimpressed. "Yeah, I think I want something in return."
His eyebrows furrowed as he thought, confused by my vagueness coupled with my scheming tone. He knew and I knew that I was planning on getting something out of him. "Like what?"
'I suppose that's open to discussion."
"And I suppose said discussion can take place later."
Please with myself for winning at least a few points against him, I let him approach me. He nuzzled his face into my neck affectionately, hands sliding around my waist and slipping into my back pockets.
"So, the front yard?"
