(no subject)
pretty much the standard for us...angst, emo, arguing, cheating, etc.
Lying in bed here, curled around Andy for the first time in far too long and more than sated, he shouldn’t have been feeling an uncomfortable stab of guilt. They had fucked all night, because talking and comparing summers could wait and Rick just needed to feel again, to confirm that Andy was truly there and still his. It had been good, in ways that fucking anyone else never could be, but still that little pinprick of guilt invaded in between, when they were simply lying in each other’s arms and whispering endearments meant only for the other’s ears.
And now, now that Andy was asleep and snoring softly beside him, there was nothing to chase away that guilty feeling. It grew, even as he pressed his face into Andy’s dark hair and told himself that what he had done had been nothing, until he was beginning to feel nauseated, as if his self disgust might manifest itself in sickness. His lips formed a silent apology against the back of Andy’s neck before he stood, not as careful as he could have been about untangling their limbs.
The urge to leave the room entirely was strong, but Rick settled for pacing like a caged predator within the confines of the room. He wanted to be there when Andy woke up, and if he left now he knew he wouldn’t be coming back for a long while. “I love you,” he said firmly to his boyfriend’s sleeping form, as if that would somehow make things right, “More than anything.” In the end, more than the person who had mattered most to him in the world for years. That said something. But it didn’t chase away the guilt, or the nausea that came with it.
Lying in bed here, curled around Andy for the first time in far too long and more than sated, he shouldn’t have been feeling an uncomfortable stab of guilt. They had fucked all night, because talking and comparing summers could wait and Rick just needed to feel again, to confirm that Andy was truly there and still his. It had been good, in ways that fucking anyone else never could be, but still that little pinprick of guilt invaded in between, when they were simply lying in each other’s arms and whispering endearments meant only for the other’s ears.
And now, now that Andy was asleep and snoring softly beside him, there was nothing to chase away that guilty feeling. It grew, even as he pressed his face into Andy’s dark hair and told himself that what he had done had been nothing, until he was beginning to feel nauseated, as if his self disgust might manifest itself in sickness. His lips formed a silent apology against the back of Andy’s neck before he stood, not as careful as he could have been about untangling their limbs.
The urge to leave the room entirely was strong, but Rick settled for pacing like a caged predator within the confines of the room. He wanted to be there when Andy woke up, and if he left now he knew he wouldn’t be coming back for a long while. “I love you,” he said firmly to his boyfriend’s sleeping form, as if that would somehow make things right, “More than anything.” In the end, more than the person who had mattered most to him in the world for years. That said something. But it didn’t chase away the guilt, or the nausea that came with it.