World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

34.0

THE CAUGHT

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“Come on, just let go already,” he gets closer again, “I know your type, we are the same. This is just sex, sex means nothing in our world.”

“You got me there,” I analyze his expression and he does the same with mine, “But somehow this doesn’t feel right, not today.”

“Sex is always right and you know it,” he squeezes my knee, “I’m really good at it, you won’t regret it. Just let me show you.”

“I’m very good at it too,” I take another sip of my Brazilian drink. We really are the same, he sounds exactly like I used to sound.

“God, stop teasing. I’m already in flames here,” he takes my hand to make me touch his you know but I stop him right in time.

“Hey,” I try to sober up, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” his hands are still all over my body and who can blame the guy? I’m freaking irresistible. It’s even hard for me to resist myself; I can’t imagine how tough it must be for other people. “As I said, don’t be sorry and let’s just do it,” he continues.

“Have you ever liked anyone?” I sigh.

“I like you,” his surreal smirk strikes again, “A lot.”

“Not in that way,” I get more comfortable because, I don’t know when it happened, but I think I have become the type of guys I used to hate so much. The ones who love to chat all the time. They want to make conversation at the worst timing ever, even when you are foreplaying. Damn, they are annoying, I am being annoying right now but I don’t seem to care because I continue the talk. “I meant liking someone enough to not want to have sex with anyone else but them. Just because you are afraid you could end up hurting them.”

“Boring,” he mumbles.

“You haven’t liked anyone then,” I kind of feel sorry for the cutie now, “You should try it. It’s annoying as hell but it feels good at the same time.”

“I’m sure it does,” he tries to act like he is listening but I see how his eyes inspect the tattoos on my arms. He makes me feel like I’m an object; he makes me feel like I used to make other guys feel all the time.

I stay in silence for a while because I’m starting to feel frustrated about the fact that I obviously want to do what he is proposing but I can’t. I just can’t because the tourist’s face is stuck on my thoughts. God, the tourist is so pretty. I miss him already. How lame am I?

“You know what else feels good?” he breaks the short pause of silent, “Sex feels awesome.”

“I know,” I laugh, “God, I miss it.”

“You see? I’m the best thing that could have happened to you. I’m here to put an end to your romantic shit.”

“But,” I try to talk but he stops me by putting his finger on my lips. He slowly rubs it against my mouth and with his other hand he reaches the zippers of my jeans. Slowly, teasingly, with his eyes fixated on mine. The cutie is a pro.

“Stop talking and follow my lead,” he whispers. His hand starting to intrude my jeans, my you know starting to wake up from his long nap. “You can take me as rough as you want, right over there, behind the big tree,” I feel his hand finally grabbing me, “Speaking of big,” he laughs and I do too.