I have felt broken inside for a long time. Not knowing. Not wanting to know. Not seeking help or advice because I knew it was all my fault. But being in his arms, in his hold,makes me feel so alive.
The feeling of losing it all.
Of love going away.
I lean to the touch when he touch me. It's strangely warm. Unlike his personalities and tattoos.
I cry in his arms. In this stranger's arms that are warm. Strong. And…feels so familiar. Like we have known each other for a long time.
This feeling is beautiful, yet scary.
Once upon a time I felt like that with Weston. I had it all with him, even when he couldn’t come out to his family. I was happy to have loved him. Having to be his. I guess that’s what love is.
Then
What is this? This feeling of belonging to this man I don’t know. His warmth engulfed me and all my senses. I want to stay here forever. Hide, knowing he will keep me safe. He will protect me from the world, and even from myself.
But I can't stay like this, we have a wedding to attend in a few hours.
I take a breath then slowly move from his arms. He let me, but not from a distance. Just a few inches out of his reach.
His eyes are deep. Soulful. Like he has been through hell and back. His hands come to my face, rubbing my tears away. His touch is soft, opposite of his body. His bare chest is full of tattoos, drawn like a canva, decorating him so well. From his chest to his arms. He is yummy. Beautiful.
How did he do this? Make me feel so safe, like I have been enchanted? Almost love spelled. He makes me come out of my shell, break my walls.
I am at the age where it's rare to meet real connection. Because I could be with this man. But that’s too much to wish for.
***
“I am sorry for dumping my emotions on you.” I say. Awkwardness occupies the room. But he doesn't have any of that. Instead, he nods then turns around to leave. My mouth ran on itself before I could stop it, “stay.” I say, a little too breathless. “ please.”
His shoulders slug, looks down then shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want anything to do with me, boy.”
“stay.” I repeat again. “I want you to stay.”
He turns around, glances at me. I can see a lot of thoughts running in his head right now. Then he walks in, locks the door behind him and sits down beside me, on the cold floor, leaning on the bed.
“beer?” I ask
“You have beer?” he looks surprised. “oh.” He says like he understood.
“He wanted me to be comfortable.” I defend.
“He wanted to screw you before the wedding, then screw you after, before he goes to the honeymoon.” He says casually. Like it wasn’t a big deal. His tone isn’t judging, just matter of factly.
“yes.” I answer. Because that’s reality. That’s Weston. Then it hits me and I close my eyes. Shit. That's Weston Cresswell. The mayor's son. And now this man has found him in my room before his wedding.
Shit
“Could you please don’t tell anyone?” I plead. I may hate him now but I don’t want other people to rut him out. He may come out when he is ready.
If he will ever be ready.
The man chuckles and drink his beer. A hint of amusement and…irritation? Why?
“My advice to you is, don’t go to that wedding. Not for him, but for you.” He glanced my way for a second, “ you are not strong enough to face that, you will get hurt.” He shakes his head. “ But I know these words are useless, you will go no matter what.”
He turns his head forward and keeps finishing up his bottles. I stand and get him another. “Oh fuck it. I forgot something, you should worry about people finding out you are my boyfriend, because that will be a real hell for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let's just say, I am a ghost in this town. A very scary, dangerous ghost that will make all of them melt when they see me. You shouldn’t have invited me in.” he thinks for a minute, “no, I shouldn't have come.”
This stranger and I look back at each other. Our eyes lock. I don’t move. I don’t ask. But I want to. Neither one of us speaks, but our eyes say different things.
He says he is a ghost in this town. More like a reminder, but of what? “Are you from this town?” I ask. Sitting down beside him.
“was,” he says. “ I don’t know anymore.” He turns to me, “ are you?”
“no, I am from LA. Got here last night for the wedding.”
“That's so good of you.”
I smile. “ you mean its stupid and crazy of me. Oh thank you.” I tease.
He laughs. Low, more like a rumble.
“I just got here myself, after… ten years.”
“Holly shit. Where have you been?”
“somewhere…someplace that changed me.”
“Do you mean like training or something? Are you a soldier?"
“No. Try more like…prison.”
Prison. The sentence linger in the air like poison. For ten years, he was in prison. “ I'm sorry.” That’s all I came up with.
“You are not the one who kept me there, why are you apologizing?”
“I don’t know.” I am just sorry. I don’t know why I have to apologize but I feel like it. I feel like he deserves it.
I want to change the subject. I need to. "Is that why you came to my rescue?” I tease. Flirtatious in my tone. A hint in my eyes. A nudge on his elbow. Playful
We could do anything other than talk about sad suffs.
We could make out. Be like other guys who fuck their brains out when they meet.
We could kiss here.
He could take off his trousers, I could take mine. We could indulge in the physical to destract the emotional.
Get in bed
And if we were anyone else, that's where we would be.
In bed. Fucking. All day long.
And night.
I could ditch the wedding and choose myself for once.
But he seems not to be anyone else. Not this guy.
He looks at me. I look back. I am enchanted. I don’t want to miss a thing about this stranger. It's dangerous, this feeling he is giving me. I am hopeless. Indeed hopeless. What the hell?
“I heard you scream,” he says and damn that voice. He has this kind of voice that a few people have. Deep. Seductive. Intriguing. He can be cast in tv movies and act as a villain and I will gladly drop to my knees for him.
Yuuuup!
I decided to play. To flirt. “You did?” I ask. My eyes scan his.
He doesn’t look away. He looks back with the same passion, or I might say, curiosity. "What if I was screaming in pleasure, would you have come to my rescue?'' There, I am playing with fire. But I like to burn. Iove to burn.
So let me burn some more before I attend this wedding.
He chuckles. A mystery in his eyes. Not dark or scary, just…a mystery like a magnet pulling me in. “Would you have wanted me to rescue you?” he asks. and oh am I burning!
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Trust me, I don’t know how to flirt, I am just being honest. Curious to be precise.”
“Incase you don’t know, I am a good boy.” I tune back the flirting a little. Trading on shallow waters.
“I know you are.” He says. Shifting his body to directly face me. “I saw it in the way I held you.”
Oh fuck me! Is this a test? One man after the other? One breaks, one mends? I laugh nervously. The teasing goes away as my heart beats a little faster for my liking.
"And just so you know, if that scream was of pleasure, then he doesn’t know what he is doing,” he winks then turns to look the other way.
I swallow. “you don’t say, and do…”
“if it were me, the whole town would have known my name,” he cut me off before I could ask the whole question. His eyes back at me. His voice low. So deep and husky. “I would take away every breath in you, then give it back ten folds,” he licks his lips and adds, “hard.”
And because I am that stupid, that crazy and I am very good at making stupid decision, I lift my body up, lock gaze with him as I slowly straighten his legs, then I sit on his lap, almost close to his cock, that is now so hard. I bring my hands around his neck and move my hips slowly. Seductively.
Dancing on his hard on, I try to breathe. Shallow. Not wanting this moment to end. Will he kick me? Push me? "Do just that then.” I whisper.
He grunts. A low rumble.
I take that as an invitation and bring my lips to his neck. His breathing increase. Mine accelerate as a fast ball. I don’t kiss his neck, I just linger there for a minute then go to bite his earlobe.
He growls. The sound going straight to my dick and fuck me if I am not turned on it fucking hurts.
“You are…”
I cut him short and suck his earlobe, then whisper what I want, “Do just that. Make me scream your name for the whole town to hear.” Then I bring my lips to his.
He takes me in. Welcomes me with delight.
It's different. I thought he would be rough with me, with everything, but instead, he is gentle. One hand is caressing my back while the other holds the back of my head. He moves with confidence. Slow and steady. His tongue dances with mine, building butterflies in my belly.
So long. So long have I felt butterflies from kissing someone. This kiss is heavenly. It's like he is making love to me. To my soul. He hasn’t taken my clothes off and yet my heart feels like it is in love with him.
Our bodies intertwine as we explore each other.
I move my hips to increase friction. He curses out loud and follows with a growl. He lets me lead. Let me explore. Oh how much I wish there were no clothes between us.
He is pulling back. I pull him to me. He laughs between kisses, biting my lower lip as he ends the kiss. I don’t want it to end. Not now. Not yet.
He leaves small pecks on my lips. Lingers for a few seconds. My eyes close. His hand on my face. "Open your beautiful eyes. Let me see you.” He demands.
I oblige.
I am met with the most beautiful man. Vulnerable man. A man who seems to have seen better days and bad days too. And he is not hiding it. He is showing it in his eyes. And the way he is caressing my cheek right now.
I lean to the touch. He smiles at me.
“You are so perfect.” He says. “And you deserve so much more than me, trust me, I know.”
I bite my lower lip. Tasting us. Our kiss. Everything about this moment screams perfect to me. But I will never force someone to do anything. That’s not me.
I can't help the rejection feeling. That thing that is tightening inside my chest right now. Shit. What have I done? I just threw myself at him. He didn’t seem to not like it though. Maybe he pitied me. Maybe he kissed me back because he felt sorry for me. I was ten minutes from hooking up with a friend who is marrying someone else in a few hours and now
Shit.
In a minute I was on my feet ready to run. I look at this hotel room and I have nowhere to go. I don’t know this town.
Then it hits me. I came to watch the man I love get married. I came to wish him well, then I met this wonderful man and I just ruined everything.
“I'm sorry.” I blurt. Too fast for my heart. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t go.
“Open your eyes,” he says. “please.” He adds.
I open them. He is watching me. I don’t know his name. He doesn’t know mine. Yet we kissed like we knew each other for over a century.
“It's okay. You don’t have to apologize for kissing me. You wanted to. I wanted you to.”
“Realy?”
“Didn’t you notice the way I kissed you back?”
“I thought maybe…”
“You thought wrong. I am a big man. A grown up man. And I don’t do things out of a mistake.” He holds my hand then walks me to the bathroom. A million things running in my mind right now. Is he going to fuck me in here?
We stand in front of the mirror. Him behind me. I look at our reflection and we look good together. Exceptional. I want this. I want us like this? Will it ever happen?
“Do you see that?” he ask
“what?”
“You. You are so perfect. Too beautiful for this rough man behind you right now. Now tell me, who wouldn’t want to kiss an angel like you?” he kisses my neck in the process.
His words take my breath away. Everything he does seems to take my breath away. How does he do that? Make me feel 17 all over again?
“And you say you don’t know how to flirt.” I say. I try to hold on to the sink so I don’t fall. My legs are jelly from what he is doing to me.
His hands inside my shirt. I moan when he pinch my nipple. The sound goes around the tiny bathroom and comes back to us.
I lay my head on his shoulder. Needing leverage from his assault. He was right. He can make me scream for the whole town to hear. And I would love every minute of it.
In the next few seconds, we are both gasping. Then he stops the magic he was doing. I watch him through our reflection. “What's your name?” he asks
“Dray. Drayton Maxwell.” A gasp leave my lips. I bite down.
“Dray” he says my name like he is tasting it on his lips. To see how it will feel when he fucks my brains out. When he makes me scream and I scream so loud he has to warn me about the nosy neighbors. But I know he won't. I know he will like me screaming more and more. “My name is Stephen. You can call me Steve. '' he turns me to look at him. Then lift me up and sat me to the tile sink.
“Dray, I am a man who likes to take my time, so when I have you, I will take my time with you. Slowly devouring every part of you,every inch of your body,” his hands grab my hips, pulls me to him.
Our dicks close. Almost rubbing. Teasing. Darn this man. “And I won't stop there, not anytime soon. And when I am done with you, you wouldn’t want any other man. I will make sure of that.” His promise ends with his lips on mine. Hungrily. Showing me what he will do to me. What might come when I let him in.
I gasp
He breathes
I moan
He swallows my noises
I grind
He holds me still.
This man will be the death of me. He takes my sanity away then brings me back to my senses
“Steve,” I whisper. It suits him. The strong man, shirtless man with tattoos yet honest eyes and gentleness in his touch. Steve, the man who came to my rescue when he heard me screaming. Steve, the man who I can't and probably won't stop fantasizing about for the next few months.
That thought disappoint me a little. Leaving a tiny uncomfortable feeling in my chest.
“Whatever you are thinking right now, stop.” He says
“I am thinking about you.”
"I am right here. Holding you.”
“why?” I couldn’t help it. Why was he holding me? Why did he care? I know this is a small town but nobody else came. Why him?
“you want to know why I am holding you instead of screwing you.”
I bite my lips. “yes.”
Time stands still whenever he looks at me like that. He doesn’t know it. He confuses me and makes me crazy, in a good way.
But I am tired of meaningless screwing. Meaningless connection. I Want more. More than the lust and longing.
The wanting and needing. I should have it. Can i?
Steve doesn’t answer me. It may have been ten minutes or ten seconds, but my mind stopped counting. So I ask him the question that I want to know the answers to.
“Tell me what you see when you look at me.”