End In Tears
Remember when I wrote Het?
Well I did it again.
In my defence it's not my fault.
Everyone knows that things like this end in tears. Its just a matter of time, and someone will end up hurt and wondering why they bothered in the first place.
But its easy to forget that, when Kyle digs his fingers into her hair and kisses her hard, when he runs his surprisingly soft hands over the skin on her stomach, pulls her close when they, finally, fall to sleep, breathing heavily against each other and ignoring the tingling of regret at the base of her spine.
And its even easier to forget on Saturday mornings, when they wake up tangled in each other, bruises blooming on skin, and scratches along shoulders, Kyle slides his hands under her, mouths at her neck, mutters things into her skin which make her smile. She forgets when she started smiling at him.
Because its easy to forget they aren’t a normal couple like this, that they didn’t take out their anger at work, at the stresses of life and the need to be perfect all the time on each other last night, slamming into surfaces and practically trying to crawl inside each other. Its easy to forget that they’re not dating and she can’t touch him whenever she wants.
Kyle’s lips slide across the side of her neck, his nose pressed against the edge of her jaw.
“You know,” His voice is low, rumbles against her throat and she swallows, hips rolling lazily back against his, “we’ve got nowhere to be.”
“Except reality,” she replies and Kyle tightens his grip, slides his hand out from under her and down her stomach, presses his fingers under the black lace of her panties and she hooks a leg back over his.
“Reality sucks,” he says, fingers stroking gently over the wetness between her legs. She lets out a breathy laugh, fingers tangling in her own hair as he presses his fingers in. He coaxes an orgasm out of her, his touch gentle and teasing, so in contrast to last night, until she’s shuddering and pressing back against him, coming against his hand and he mutters a raspy “yeah” in to her ear. She lets him turn her over, and she wraps a hand around his hard dick, strokes her thumb nail over the head and it doesn’t take long for him to come, over her skin, her hands, hot against her stomach, lips pressed to hers and breathing heavily through his noise.
She moves, shifts him off and he groans, shifts against the sheets as she stands.
“Where are you going?” His hand snakes out and wraps around her wrist and she gives a small tug against the not unwelcome touch.
“I’ve got to…” He tugs and she stops, bites on her lips and looks down at him, he looks like he knows what she’s thinking and she closes her eyes.
“Rach…”
She still hates that and she shakes her head once, feels him move to his knees, his fingers curls around hers and she allows herself to be pulled back to bed, to be kissed hard with his hands in her hair.
A few more hours wont hurt.
Well I did it again.
In my defence it's not my fault.
Everyone knows that things like this end in tears. Its just a matter of time, and someone will end up hurt and wondering why they bothered in the first place.
But its easy to forget that, when Kyle digs his fingers into her hair and kisses her hard, when he runs his surprisingly soft hands over the skin on her stomach, pulls her close when they, finally, fall to sleep, breathing heavily against each other and ignoring the tingling of regret at the base of her spine.
And its even easier to forget on Saturday mornings, when they wake up tangled in each other, bruises blooming on skin, and scratches along shoulders, Kyle slides his hands under her, mouths at her neck, mutters things into her skin which make her smile. She forgets when she started smiling at him.
Because its easy to forget they aren’t a normal couple like this, that they didn’t take out their anger at work, at the stresses of life and the need to be perfect all the time on each other last night, slamming into surfaces and practically trying to crawl inside each other. Its easy to forget that they’re not dating and she can’t touch him whenever she wants.
Kyle’s lips slide across the side of her neck, his nose pressed against the edge of her jaw.
“You know,” His voice is low, rumbles against her throat and she swallows, hips rolling lazily back against his, “we’ve got nowhere to be.”
“Except reality,” she replies and Kyle tightens his grip, slides his hand out from under her and down her stomach, presses his fingers under the black lace of her panties and she hooks a leg back over his.
“Reality sucks,” he says, fingers stroking gently over the wetness between her legs. She lets out a breathy laugh, fingers tangling in her own hair as he presses his fingers in. He coaxes an orgasm out of her, his touch gentle and teasing, so in contrast to last night, until she’s shuddering and pressing back against him, coming against his hand and he mutters a raspy “yeah” in to her ear. She lets him turn her over, and she wraps a hand around his hard dick, strokes her thumb nail over the head and it doesn’t take long for him to come, over her skin, her hands, hot against her stomach, lips pressed to hers and breathing heavily through his noise.
She moves, shifts him off and he groans, shifts against the sheets as she stands.
“Where are you going?” His hand snakes out and wraps around her wrist and she gives a small tug against the not unwelcome touch.
“I’ve got to…” He tugs and she stops, bites on her lips and looks down at him, he looks like he knows what she’s thinking and she closes her eyes.
“Rach…”
She still hates that and she shakes her head once, feels him move to his knees, his fingers curls around hers and she allows herself to be pulled back to bed, to be kissed hard with his hands in her hair.
A few more hours wont hurt.