Games
So yeah, it's official. I'm gonna screw up my masters confirmation next week. Why? Cos these voices won't. shut. up.
*facepalm*
1. All he knows.
2. Tremble.
3. Shatter
Rated R.
“I don’t play games, Luke. I’m not that guy.”
I certainly did not live up to my own words. What happened between me not playing games, to manifesting that guy in real, very very real, time?
It’s hard to think when you’re standing in the same room as me. These days, I cannot be in any confined space with you without this, without wanting to play games, without feeling a magnetic pull towards you.
You’re the north to my south, Luke. Always.
Always, always.
You don’t have to be here. Noah’s completed all his follow-up procedures. The board meeting we had earlier ended hours ago. I saw you leave without a word to me.
And yet, I somehow knew you’d come back.
I take a sip of coffee, and push myself out of my chair, but I don’t step closer to you. Instead, I wander further away, looking for invisible things. The air between us feels like it is about to explode. I feel your slight discomfort at my unwillingness to grab you and pin you down.
Maybe I’m just tired.
Or maybe I just like playing games a lot more than I realized.
I keep my voice nonchalant.
“Can I help you?”
Your feet shuffle uneasily but your voice is determinedly steady.
“How’s your vacation?”
My eyes smiled into the suspicion of your words.
“It was great, actually. I never thought seeing the parentals would be this easy. And California’s a great place to relax.”
I noticed at my repetition of “great”. I hope you don’t pick up on the falsity of my words.
“Sounds…great.”
Of course you do.
I start packing my bag, my back turned to you. I refuse to acknowledge the triumph on your face. It is a triumph I am not proud of.
“What do you want, Luke?”
In any cheesy soap, you’d say, “I want you, Reid” and we’d make love on the floor right now now now, Noah and Ian will totally understand why we cheated on them, and we’d all live happily ever fucking after.
But this shit is real. Your words puncture me, but I probably deserved it.
“Nothing. I’m leaving town for a while. Thought I’d let you know.”
I couldn’t help throwing something hurtful your way.
“Does Noah know?”
I relish at the pain I see written all over your face before your hand slaps me across the cheek.
…
Ian and I are forced to take up different shifts after we returned from our break, to make up for our lost time with patients.
You know this.
You come by my house.
Predictably, I wait for you. When I open the door, you don’t throw yourself at me. You don’t pull me in and kiss me like your life is on the line. You don’t touch me at all.
Instead, you sit quietly on the sofa, your hands pressed together as though afraid you’d fall apart.
No. Your hands are pressed together, in steady unwavering confidence.
Our eyes meet.
“Hey, Luke.”
“Hey. We need to talk.”
I nearly drop my beer.
…
It’s been close to an hour and our bodies have not made any contact. Nadda. Zilch.
Zefuckingro.
This conversation is filled with awkward silences and unhappy pauses.
I hate you for doing this to me. You know, how I live for not talking.
Whatever.
We’re talking about my relationship with Ian, about your relationship with Noah and in the most bizarre way possible - though, not really - we’re really only talking about our relationship. I know the question nagging on your mind but you haven’t broached on it. You’re circling the area, inching nervously towards it but undoubtedly wary of it.
Wide-eyed frightened.
I absent-mindedly adjust the ring on my finger. The way your eyes dart to that gesture makes it clear. It makes everything clear.
Your voice is even.
“You married him, didn’t you?”
I let confusion spell itself over my reply.
“What makes you think that?”
You practically snarl your words out.
“You’re wearing the fucking ring, Reid. You’re married aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
You seem relieved, yet still tethering at the edges of fear. I wait for you to speak but your attention has shifted solely to staring at the metal around my finger.
“He got it for me. He proposed. I broke a mirror and had sex with you. The least I could do is wear the damn thing.”
You are visibly startled.
“He…he knows?”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m just saying that, wearing the ring is the least I could do. I haven’t been able to do much. Sometimes I wonder why he’s still sticking around.”
I suddenly realize that Ian deserves better. So why do I still want to keep him? Why not just break things off with him?
Because I love him.
I feel your hand on my cheek. Gentle, this time.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
I take your palm and kiss the center of it, the center of everything.
But I’m in love with you.
“I’m a big boy. I can deal with that.”
You move closer to me, your scent leaving me heady.
You wrap your legs around me as you run a hand up my spine.
I want to apologize about my Noah remark earlier but you swallow my ability to speak when you pull my lower lip with your teeth.
Suddenly, I find you kissing my hand, rubbing my ring against your lips.
You lick that finger, and then put the length of it into your fucking talented mouth, drawing it in and out languidly.
The things you do to me, boy.
The things you do.
*facepalm*
1. All he knows.
2. Tremble.
3. Shatter
Rated R.
“I don’t play games, Luke. I’m not that guy.”
I certainly did not live up to my own words. What happened between me not playing games, to manifesting that guy in real, very very real, time?
It’s hard to think when you’re standing in the same room as me. These days, I cannot be in any confined space with you without this, without wanting to play games, without feeling a magnetic pull towards you.
You’re the north to my south, Luke. Always.
Always, always.
You don’t have to be here. Noah’s completed all his follow-up procedures. The board meeting we had earlier ended hours ago. I saw you leave without a word to me.
And yet, I somehow knew you’d come back.
I take a sip of coffee, and push myself out of my chair, but I don’t step closer to you. Instead, I wander further away, looking for invisible things. The air between us feels like it is about to explode. I feel your slight discomfort at my unwillingness to grab you and pin you down.
Maybe I’m just tired.
Or maybe I just like playing games a lot more than I realized.
I keep my voice nonchalant.
“Can I help you?”
Your feet shuffle uneasily but your voice is determinedly steady.
“How’s your vacation?”
My eyes smiled into the suspicion of your words.
“It was great, actually. I never thought seeing the parentals would be this easy. And California’s a great place to relax.”
I noticed at my repetition of “great”. I hope you don’t pick up on the falsity of my words.
“Sounds…great.”
Of course you do.
I start packing my bag, my back turned to you. I refuse to acknowledge the triumph on your face. It is a triumph I am not proud of.
“What do you want, Luke?”
In any cheesy soap, you’d say, “I want you, Reid” and we’d make love on the floor right now now now, Noah and Ian will totally understand why we cheated on them, and we’d all live happily ever fucking after.
But this shit is real. Your words puncture me, but I probably deserved it.
“Nothing. I’m leaving town for a while. Thought I’d let you know.”
I couldn’t help throwing something hurtful your way.
“Does Noah know?”
I relish at the pain I see written all over your face before your hand slaps me across the cheek.
…
Ian and I are forced to take up different shifts after we returned from our break, to make up for our lost time with patients.
You know this.
You come by my house.
Predictably, I wait for you. When I open the door, you don’t throw yourself at me. You don’t pull me in and kiss me like your life is on the line. You don’t touch me at all.
Instead, you sit quietly on the sofa, your hands pressed together as though afraid you’d fall apart.
No. Your hands are pressed together, in steady unwavering confidence.
Our eyes meet.
“Hey, Luke.”
“Hey. We need to talk.”
I nearly drop my beer.
…
It’s been close to an hour and our bodies have not made any contact. Nadda. Zilch.
Zefuckingro.
This conversation is filled with awkward silences and unhappy pauses.
I hate you for doing this to me. You know, how I live for not talking.
Whatever.
We’re talking about my relationship with Ian, about your relationship with Noah and in the most bizarre way possible - though, not really - we’re really only talking about our relationship. I know the question nagging on your mind but you haven’t broached on it. You’re circling the area, inching nervously towards it but undoubtedly wary of it.
Wide-eyed frightened.
I absent-mindedly adjust the ring on my finger. The way your eyes dart to that gesture makes it clear. It makes everything clear.
Your voice is even.
“You married him, didn’t you?”
I let confusion spell itself over my reply.
“What makes you think that?”
You practically snarl your words out.
“You’re wearing the fucking ring, Reid. You’re married aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
You seem relieved, yet still tethering at the edges of fear. I wait for you to speak but your attention has shifted solely to staring at the metal around my finger.
“He got it for me. He proposed. I broke a mirror and had sex with you. The least I could do is wear the damn thing.”
You are visibly startled.
“He…he knows?”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m just saying that, wearing the ring is the least I could do. I haven’t been able to do much. Sometimes I wonder why he’s still sticking around.”
I suddenly realize that Ian deserves better. So why do I still want to keep him? Why not just break things off with him?
Because I love him.
I feel your hand on my cheek. Gentle, this time.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
I take your palm and kiss the center of it, the center of everything.
But I’m in love with you.
“I’m a big boy. I can deal with that.”
You move closer to me, your scent leaving me heady.
You wrap your legs around me as you run a hand up my spine.
I want to apologize about my Noah remark earlier but you swallow my ability to speak when you pull my lower lip with your teeth.
Suddenly, I find you kissing my hand, rubbing my ring against your lips.
You lick that finger, and then put the length of it into your fucking talented mouth, drawing it in and out languidly.
The things you do to me, boy.
The things you do.