It's around five in the morning when I finally come to a conclusion.
After seven months with you constantly in my presence, I'm going to be entirely honest with myself. I want you. I want you all to myself and that scares the shit out of me. Our relationship -which has been strictly platonic up to this point- has left me feeling more fulfilled than any physical relationship I've been in to this day. I've decided that you mean more to me than pleasing my parents, more than being popular around campus (I'm well aware of the stigma that comes with this lifestyle) and certainly more than any sort of reputation I've developed. I didn't put up a fight when you were fucking other guys because I wanted you to be happy, but I was jealous. I hate having to share you. I want you all to myself and we've never even done it. You're not even mine and I don't want to share.
I slide off my bed and cross the room to your bed. You're on your stomach again, hand under your chin, hair all around your pale face. You look so beautiful when you sleep, so innocent. I know the demon leaves you at night; it possesses me instead. "Hey." You never sleep with a shirt on and your skin is cold beneath my fingertips. Perhaps you're dead? You seem so lifeless…"Hey; wake up." You shift a little, mumbling something incomprehensible, swatting my hand away. "Wake up!"
"What?"
You finally look up, eyes glazed with sleep, lidded with confusion. I'm climbing onto the bed, crawling over you. "I want you to hurt me. Break me. Make my heart bleed for you. Do it now before I fucking change my mind."
You twist to look at me, eyes burning into mine from within the paleness of your face. "I have class in three hours." You yawn, "Go back to bed. You didn't sleep at all last night."
"I'm not tired." Why are you refusing me?
"You don't really want it." You roll over on your side, facing away from me. There's a certain amount of bitterness in your voice. "You pushed me away."
"I want it. I've been thinking all night." I'm hard just thinking about your touch; your taste as our lips smolder together. I need you or I'll go crazy.
"You'll regret it."
"I won't."
"You will."
"Fuck." I'm angry now, "Fuck you. After you tease me all this time and I finally tell you it's okay, I'm sick of jerking off, you're fucking telling me no?" I grab you by the shoulder, forcing you to look at me. Your eyes are dark and serious; your chin trembles ever so slightly. Will you cry? I want to see you cry…You've never cried over me before…
"You want to know why? Don't you understand? You're the one person I never would have expected this from. I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted your smiles." Your eyes burn into mine, "As long as you didn't want it, you were safe. But now, you want me to hurt you and I can't do it."
"Why not?" I'm being demanding now. How the tables have turned.
One of your hands snakes up to my face, caressing my cheek. Your gaze softens as you stare up at me, dark eyes wide; you're not half-asleep any more. "Because I love you."
My heart flutters wildly; I love you too. But I'm angry, I'm aroused and you're being difficult. "You love me? You fucking love me?? Then why do all those other guys? Why the hell do you fucking toy with me all the time? Why don't you ever act like you love me?"
You stare for a moment, then pull me down, tugging on my hair; you capture my mouth with yours, kissing me passionately, leaving me breathless. "Like this?" You whisper as our lips part. You're smiling now, fingers in my hair, our foreheads rested together.
Okay heart, resume beating…For a moment, all I can do is stare into your eyes, lost in their dark depths. This is what I've wanted; oh this is what I've wanted all along…I just never realized it. I rest my head on your chest; your heart is beating as wildly as mine. "Say it again."
"I love you." Your fingers are teasing my hair out of its braid. I love the feel of your fingers brushing across my neck, long and tapered, soft, gentle, cold all at the same time. Your voice is low with emotion, guttural almost; the words seem to come out in a soft moan. Your hand rests on my back, hair wrapped around it, your cheek pressed up against the top of my head.
"Again." I'm so demanding. But I want to hear it -and keep hearing it. I'm afraid that I imagined…I won't allow myself to be your fuck buddy. I'll only let you if you love me…If you really love me. Because I love you and I wouldn't want it any other way.
"I love you…" The words die as you kiss me again, tongue fighting its way into my mouth; this time I don't push you away. Rather, I return the kiss, violently, passionately, trying to tell you just how much I love you as well. My gaze drifts up to meet yours as you tug on my bottom lip with your teeth; there is no demon in your eyes.
Abruptly, you sit up. I'm on your lap now, legs wrapped around your waist, head on your shoulder. Your hair spills around your face; the warmth of your bare chest working its way through my tee-shirt. Your arms crush me to you, holding me close as you speak into my hair. "Are you scared?" You don't sound teasing, just curious. Your fingers massage my back, loosening me up, causing me to melt further into your embrace.
"Scared…" I echo. Why would I be scared? I love you…Love makes a person do crazy things. One of your hands works its way down to the waistline of my shorts, tugging on the elastic. " 'M not scared." Okay, maybe I am a little. I'm scared that you don't really mean any of this; that you just want to give me a go and then toss me aside. Would you be so cruel as to tell me you love me just to score with me?
"Do you want me?" Your voice comes in my ear, heavy with lust. A lock of your hair brushes against my cheek and I shiver. Your finger is running along the elastic now, tugging it, allowing it to snap gently back against my abdomen. "Do you want me to…?"
"I do." My arms are still around your neck; my face buried in your shoulder. I want you to play with me; to hurt me the way you do all the others. I'll be your little toy, so long as you love me…You're peeling my shirt off my, tossing it aside on the floor, my mind is a haze as your hands explore my bare chest. It feels good, your fingers roaming across my bare skin. I moan into your neck as your hands work down to my waist again, the moan becoming a whimper as your fingers brush across what they've been looking for. You're stroking me softly, cautiously, and my fingers are digging into your back as I beg silently for more.
Then you start to get violent, jerking and tugging and I'm whimpering more, squirming, but you keep me close, wrapping one arm around me, hand resting on my lower back. It hurts, but I feel like I'm floating at the same time, soaring, rising above the very clouds themselves as you do your thing. Is this bliss? Is it heaven, hell and purgatory rolled into one? There seems to be a magic touch to you; no one has ever made me feel so good before. But then, I've never loved any one like I love you before.
You're not gentle. Not at all. You're positively carnal as you act on pent up desires, and I'm ready to fall to pieces at your touch. There's a dull pain in my shoulder that I hadn't noticed before; you're biting me. Not playfully, it's actual biting, as if you want to draw blood. The pain doesn't bother me much; I know you would never truly hurt me. You said so yourself. I trust you to do as you please and even now when I'm in pain I know it will be worth it.
Millions of thoughts race through my mind; millions of small uncertainties. You had better not pull any shit with me…I whimper again, this time happily; the feelings you cause to rise within me are the most wonderful ever. You certainly do know what you're doing, don't you? It's heaven; it's heaven; it's heaven…A moan forms, but you cut it off, capturing my mouth again with yours. You had better really love me.
You're leaning forwards and I'm falling back among the satin sheets. I'm pinned beneath you and you're tugging off my boxers as you sit on my stomach. "You know what comes next." You lean forwards -kissing, tasting- before you shed your own pants. The rest of you is as pale as your chest; your skin is a creamy white. My fingers twitch; I want to touch you, but I'm afraid.
"It's okay." You smile teasingly, "That's what you're after, right? Usually, I get to do all the work." You move my hand, allowing me to get a good feel, but I'm too shy to do anything else and you smile again, kissing me roughly before you set out to finish the job.
It hurts like hell.
You're doing your thing, body moving against mine, rhythmically, you're happy; you're happy; you're happy, and I feel nothing but wave upon wave of pain followed by something else I've never felt before. It almost feels good enough to make me forget that you're hurting me. Almost. I'm crying, tears rolling down my cheeks, and you're kissing them away, telling me you're sorry you have to hurt me, you love me, if you didn't have to hurt me, you wouldn't.
It's okay; I trust you. My fingers are in your hair. I'm sure I'm yanking on it, but you don't seem to care at all. I don't know what to do; I don't know what to do…You're moving again, body warm against mine as you finish up, and all I can do is lay there sniffling. I haven't done anything but whimper; haven't kissed you, haven't even told you I love you. I feel terrible. I can't even move as you draw me into your arms, it hurts too much.
"Are you okay?" Your voice is in my ear. You're caressing my cheek, wiping away the last traces of my tears as you kiss me. "I'm sorry; I wish it didn't have to be like that…" You sort of trail off, burying your face in my long hair. "I never, ever wanted to hurt you."
"I know you didn't." I whisper. Suddenly, I'm exhausted. A full night with no sleep, what you just put me through…I can hardly keep my eyes open any more. "I'll be okay. I'm just tired. And…sore." My head rests on your bare chest, "And my parents," I yawn, "Will kill me if they find out."
"Well," You roll over on your side, "Look at it this way: they don't have to worry about you getting a girl knocked up." My head is under your chin now; you have me wrapped securely in your arms. I never realized how strong you were until now when you're holding me in your embrace.
At first, I don't notice the bitterness in your voice. I'm yawning again, nuzzling my head against you, trying to get comfortable. You stroke my hair as you continue, telling me something I never knew before. "That's what happened to my mom and dad. They were forced to get married when my mother was only 19. All of us were miserable. Mom used to hit me when she got frustrated or angry." Your arms are tighter around me now; it's almost as if you're afraid I'll leave. "Dad said it wasn't my fault…But Mom…"
I'm silent as you speak; you've never told me this before. I'd always wondered why you never talked about your family, why you never had any pictures of them and why you hated going home for breaks. It makes me sad, thinking that your family wasn't anything like mine, that you weren't treated well. How could any one beat you? How could your own mother…? " 'M sorry…I wish…I'd been there…" I move slightly and my gaze meets yours. You look so sad; your dark eyes full of pain and anguish. I truly meant it when I said I wish I could have been there for you. I would have kept you safe and never allowed any one to hurt you.
You take one of my hands, placing it on your lower back, guiding it so that my fingers brush across what feels like a scar. "You feel that? When I was ten, my mom pushed me and I busted my back on our coffee table. The scar has been fading, but…There are some wounds that just won't heal."
"That's why…" I don't need to say it. We both already know. It's why you hate women. Why you don't want them touching you; don't want them near you. Your own mother made you this way…You still would have been gay -I don't doubt that- but you wouldn't have so much animosity towards the fairer sex if your life had been different. But the scars she's given you…They just won't disappear.
You nod. "That's why." Your voice is so soft, I'm not sure you really spoke. My arm is still wound around your waist, hand resting on your back, but your hand has moved up to my face. You stroke my cheek with your thumb, your other fingers under my chin as you kiss me. "I thought you should know."
"Thank you…" My eyes are closing; I can't stay awake any longer even though all I want to do is listen to you, "…For telling me." You trust me; you truly trust me to tell me something like that.
"You can go to sleep. I know you must be wiped out." You roll over on your back again and I curl up next to you, my arm still draped over your bare stomach. You're still holding me close, your right arm lost somewhere in my sea of hair. The fingers of your left hand are twined through mine; you're holding on loosely, as if you don't want to hurt me. It's a little late for that, isn't it? My shoulder throbs where you sank your teeth in and most of my lower body is sore. But it doesn't matter; nothing matters. We're together now and that's what's important.
I fall asleep as you rub my back, fingers soft and warm now, not cold like they had been before. If only I could have been there. I can hear the steady beating of your heart; it beats to the same tune as my own. Your chest rises and falls as you draw breath; I can feel it beneath me. Now that I'm here in your arms…You've come alive. I sigh happily, settling comfortably beside you, kissing you softly. "I love you…"
"I know." That's the last thing I hear before I drift off into the world of dreams as you kiss me softly on the forehead.
You know.
That's a comforting thought.
You know…
