And here, gentle reader, we join Chuck on that fateful November night when everything changed. Hold on to your hats, kids - it's Chuck's POV Virgin-Day.
Mine
I know what I want, and I know you won't do what I want if I ask you to do it; so I don't ask. What are we best at? The game. What do I make it?
A game.
And even with naked swords hanging in the air between us, I still don't expect you to make it as far as you do. One step, two steps, three steps – don't stop. Headband, green dress, red lips – don't stop. Don't stop looking over your shoulder at me like I'm the only person in the world. Don't stop believing that it makes my day to make you smile.
"Who's that girl?"
I have no idea. What happened to you? Who are you? What did I do to have you here, to make you laugh, to make you dance? Why is it that when the music stops you don't accept the drinks being proffered by admirers from miles around; why is it that you come to me, laugh at me, collapse beside me and say, "Told you so, Bass."
Why am I glad I was wrong?
And when the whirl of night time fantasies are over and the crowd begins to thin, I offer. You accept. Your shoes are glaring up at me, bright red and black fuck-me-silly shoes that know my secret. I couldn't care less your dress is still lying on the stage.
"Thanks for the lift home."
You were...amazing up there. More than I can say. More than I can fathom, because creatures like you aren't made in pairs. So you scoot over, look me in the eyes, take my hand. You take the initiative and my breath and we kiss, long and hard and hotter than hellfire in July.
"You sure?"
I don't want this to ever end, not even when it's happened over and over and over again so that we're sore and bruised and exhausted. I want you to keep breathing the same air that I do, keep breathing my air, keep your legs wrapped around tight enough to make it feel like I belong. This is a whole new lease on life I've never experienced, and angels and demons only know how I'm going to hunt you down and make you feel and bring you down to me. I'll shatter the shell around you again and again until it's gone, and there's only you, you and me, and the rhythm I'm teaching you to know so well.
Mine.
Fin.