I shake, but I cannot flee. Cannot speak, mouth dry, unable to look away, unwilling to try, knowing it is futile.
The way you close the space between us, moving slowly, so I know your intent, you reach for me. And I expect—I don’t know what. To be kissed? To be lifted and fucked right here, in this moment?
I do not expect what happens: You take me by the shoulders, and for split second you just look at me, dark eyes blazing, jaw pulsing, a million words burning inside you, burning and always unspoken, as if they are consumed before they can reach your lips. And then you spin me, a rough, abrupt twist, and you shove me so I slam against the window, the glass cold against my naked breasts. And then you’re there, behind me, trapping me, and your shaft probes between my thighs, and your breath is in my ear.
“This isfuckingyou, X.” And you drive into me.
Hard, sudden, a brief stab of pain as you stretch me to aching. And then I gush, wet at the fullness of you, and I cry out, and sag, would fall but for your presence.
A thrust.
I feel it, that burn. The explosive upwelling. I tamp it down.
“Yes, Caleb. This is fucking. This is what you do to me. Just this. This is all it’s ever been.” My voice is strong, though I am weak.
“Look at the window, X.”
I do, but instead of the city, I see us. Reflected.
You, huge behind me, pale and heavily muscled, moving, skin flexing and shifting in the light as you fuck.
Me, palms to the glass, breasts flattened, areolae dusky circles around my erect nipples, hips wide and skin dark, hair loose and wild, eyes crazed. Moving as I am fucked.
“You see how we look together?”
“I need more, Caleb.” I push back into your body, into your motion, into what you are doing to me. “I need more than just this. This is all you give me, and it isn’t enough.”
Abruptly, I am empty, left gasping, as you rip yourself out of me. I remain collapsed against the glass, watching you in the reflection. A moment, then, of you, standing naked behind me, shaft glistening wetly with our essences, massive chest rising and falling heavily with conflicted breath. Your eyes glitter.
I am on the cusp of orgasm, shaking with it, full to choking with need for it.
“You ask the impossible of me, X.”
“All I’m asking for is you.” Until I say it, I never understood how true this is. It hurts to admit, the pain lancing deep through every molecule of me.
You are an enigma. You will not change, and I know this, but still I feel as if INEEDyou and IHATEyou for this, hate myself even more for needing you, because needing you binds me to the howling ghosts of my murdered past, binds me to the memory of waking up as no one, waking up unable to speak or to move, unable to express the utter torment of waking up lost, alone, my soul echoing with absence, my mind blank, my past erased socompletely that I cannot even mourn for what I do not know I’ve even lost.
I NEED YOU.
Damn all the gods for burdening me with this truth, but I need you.
I don’t want to need you, but I do.
And you will not, cannot give me you. I don’t know why, and I do know you will never tell me.
Your eyes ever so slowly flutter closed. Your fisted hands uncurl.
You reach for me. I tremble, paralyzed in place. Gently now, more gentle than you’ve ever been, you turn me in place, bend at the knees, curl your hands behind my thighs and lift me easily, tug my legs around the trunk of your waist, and in the moment before impalement, you pause.
“Oh, X. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” The growl of your voice is the implacable slide of an avalanche.
“But I ask it anyway, Caleb,” I say.
And then you’re in me. A slow, sweet glide. My mouth falls open, and your eyes are wide, as are mine, and your hands cup my bottom, lower me onto you. I grip your neck, gasping with the dulcet ache of you, the molasses-slow piercing, until you are seated within me and I can’t even breathe for it, can only let my head hang back on my neck and whimper.
“Is this what you want, X?” you ask, and pin my spine to the glass. “Look at me, goddammit, and answer me.”
I open my eyes. My upper lip is curled in a snarl of ecstasy. “Yes, Caleb. This is what I want.”
