Ghosts of Christmases Past, II
'I want you I love you I need you -- fuck me, Rupert, fuck me now.'
'What did you just say?'
'Fuck me, Rupert.' He unzipped me and took my cock out, grasping it firmly and stroking me with an insistent, but loving, touch.
'Before that...'
'I need you.'
'Before that even... what did you say first?'
'I want you.'
'And between I want you and I need you?'
'I love you.' Stroking me harder, making me quiver with desire for him, making my balls tighten. 'I love you... I love you.'
I'd waited so long to hear it, I could scarcely believe he really said it. My heart leapt at the sound of it -- and so did my prick. 'Ethan, I... I don't know what to say...'
'Telling me you love me, too, would make a nice start of it,' Ethan replied, a bit tartly. He grabbed the base of my cock's shaft in one hand, teasing the tip and the underside with his fingertips. Using his index finger, Ethan slowly spread the drop of moisture welling up in the eye around the fullness of the head, taking his time, memorising me with his touch.
'Oh, gods, Ethan, you know I love you...'
'Not like that,' Ethan pouted, continuing to stroke me. I didn't think I'd ever been so aroused (and with Ethan, that was truly saying something). My exposed prick felt sensitised to even the currents of the air, so swollen with blood and so stiff that the tip took on a purplish hue, while the blue veins stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of my skin.
I cupped Ethan's delicate face in my hands (and it was delicate, then, fine-boned and beautiful...) and tilted his head so that I was looking him directly in the eyes. 'I love you, Ethan,' I told him, and I didn't believe I'd ever felt anything as strongly as the depth of my feelings for Ethan at that moment. I didn't believe I could ever feel something more.
I've hated Ethan since then, hated him with as violent a passion as I loved him then -- but I still love him. I always will.