The first time I had been touched in so achingly long. Not a lot. Not even in the places where some might say it really matters. But fingers trailing along my back, slipping over my hips and neck and ass and all the good round places... I went to him, barefoot and shivering, at two in the morning, because I couldn't take it anymore, because I needed a body and I knew he'd give me his... Two and a half years, we were infatuated with each other, we were our own little universe of perfect plans--we would dominate the world together, and I ruined it, I brought it down, ripped the pedestal out from under his world and asked him not to tell me he loved me again.
Cruel, cruel, cruel.
But he's taken me in again, and now he's finding all the old contours and telling me he loves me, he knows I told him not to say so but there it is anyhow. My lips move against his chest to tell him it was a stupid rule and he can break it anytime. The thing is, I say, I'm not interested in a relationship with you. If we mess around, that's all it will be.
Where's the problem, he wants to know.
It wouldn't be right. I can't. It's not ethical. (God damn this conscience of mine...)
Okay. He smiles.
So I lie on my stomach and only let him touch my back. Dangerous, dangerous territory. I can't help it when I tense beneath his fingers, purposefully keeping my eyes shut and my face to the mattress, consumed by the knowledge that it would be so easy to lift my head a little... One kiss. Just the one. It's all I want for Christmas. It's been so fucking long. But I'm holding myself still, still, still, and oh god, it's torture by fire, and it's so, so fucking good.
I'll snap if I see mistletoe this year.
At 5:40, we've been in and out of something you might call sleeping, but he's snoring louder than I ever heard him in the days when we slept entwined, and I'm too hot and I keep having to get up to pee because I drank too much and it didn't do a goddamn thing except refill my bladder every 20 minutes. I touch his shoulder, tell him I'm going back to my room. We embrace, and I'm relieved and disappointed but too tired to think about it much beyond that; and it's back to my own bed, my sleep-sore brain heavy with the knowledge of a long, long road ahead. Oblivion comes swiftly, and I welcome it.
So now I'm on the other end of the road: at home, and it's not so bad after all. I'll give a more coherent, cheerful update later today. Right now, I'm ready for unconsciousness.
Cruel, cruel, cruel.
But he's taken me in again, and now he's finding all the old contours and telling me he loves me, he knows I told him not to say so but there it is anyhow. My lips move against his chest to tell him it was a stupid rule and he can break it anytime. The thing is, I say, I'm not interested in a relationship with you. If we mess around, that's all it will be.
Where's the problem, he wants to know.
It wouldn't be right. I can't. It's not ethical. (God damn this conscience of mine...)
Okay. He smiles.
So I lie on my stomach and only let him touch my back. Dangerous, dangerous territory. I can't help it when I tense beneath his fingers, purposefully keeping my eyes shut and my face to the mattress, consumed by the knowledge that it would be so easy to lift my head a little... One kiss. Just the one. It's all I want for Christmas. It's been so fucking long. But I'm holding myself still, still, still, and oh god, it's torture by fire, and it's so, so fucking good.
I'll snap if I see mistletoe this year.
At 5:40, we've been in and out of something you might call sleeping, but he's snoring louder than I ever heard him in the days when we slept entwined, and I'm too hot and I keep having to get up to pee because I drank too much and it didn't do a goddamn thing except refill my bladder every 20 minutes. I touch his shoulder, tell him I'm going back to my room. We embrace, and I'm relieved and disappointed but too tired to think about it much beyond that; and it's back to my own bed, my sleep-sore brain heavy with the knowledge of a long, long road ahead. Oblivion comes swiftly, and I welcome it.
So now I'm on the other end of the road: at home, and it's not so bad after all. I'll give a more coherent, cheerful update later today. Right now, I'm ready for unconsciousness.