Last Sunday

By Spheeris1

       

The days were never typical in this house. It may seem normal, one of us reading and one of us dozing. Like a sunny Sunday morning, filled with potential and promise. But I had only one thing on my mind.

It was always on my mind when he and I were alone. Just pure physical affection and lust, the edges tinged lightly with the possibility of real love and companionship.

Did he feel it, too? Reading with those thin-looking glasses and his shirt open at the top…two buttons left undone….with perfectly pressed khaki pants, crossed at the knee.

No socks, no shoes. His pale skin merging with the dawn sunlight, sinking into the leather chair and his toes diving into beige carpet…..

He is beautiful and real and cold and perfect.

I could watch him all day, under the shade of these constant sunglasses. I cannot let him catch me staring.

Sex is one thing. Real interest is another.

But a morning like this morning, with all things calm and quiet…I want a little more.

I get up from the couch and drift to his side. His eyes do not look up as I speak, as inconsequential words leave my lips and caress his ears.

Perhaps he knows why I came over here. And perhaps he is not interested….but that is a chance I have to take.

I lean down and capture his lips, not too hard and not too soft. I make my purpose known.

I can feel him freeze, a part of him thinking this is too personal…too kind…too much like lovers might behave.

And are we lovers? Or just the release of pent-up desire?

Can we love each other if we always lie about our nights together?

The warm tip of his tongue breaches already falling walls inside my mouth.

He wants this. He needs this.

For me, it is so much more than a warm body in my sheets.

But for him….for him, I just don’t know.

       

I wish I was taking him for my own pleasure.

But instead, I am slipping around the corners of this ugly building and letting my senses become open.

I can hear running thoughts.

I can feel lava pouring over inside of someone’s heart.

It makes me grin.

Not like the others, I can enjoy the agony on a face. Agony is just a step away from ecstasy.

The cool red-head feels nothing but torture.

The honey-blond feels nothing but desperate want.

I suppose Yohji is attractive….in a cheap sort of way. Like beer. Like a dirty street.

But Ran….

Like cold lemonade. Tart, sharp and sweet. Hard to handle.

I could enjoy that type of taste.

But I am not here for me, not this day.

I am here to give my cup to someone else.

My feet make no sound as they ascend the stairs. I step inside the room and watch from a slender shadow.

All alone is my candy-killer, sitting pretty as a picture.

If he hears…and he must *hear*…he does not struggle as the cloth covers his mouth and nose.

His body slack and spots of skin exposed, I carry him…letting my fingers graze ivory flesh.

I hope I can have a sip of this concoction before I must give him up.

       

My eyes adjust painfully, as if waking from a deep sleep.

My head swims and I know I am no longer home. I am no longer amongst friends.

Hands tied back, legs cannot move. Nice and hard wooden chair for my throne.

Rope biting into skin and causing bruising…..but I wanted this, didn’t I?

Deep inside, I want to be used.

I am worth nothing more than this.

One kiss…just one kiss was all I got in all this time….

One touch of the lips to last an eternity.

Yohji wouldn’t understand. No one would.

How could anyone let themselves be captured? To become owned in a way that cannot be reversed?

Yohji couldn’t understand…even if I told him….he couldn’t.

So, I had to go.

I had to let him go. Let all of it go.

He was the last bit of my old life that I still clung to.

Some odd hope for salvation I guess….but that is over now.

I have given myself over to him.

He wanted it for so long, my complete submission. Now, he has it.

I watch him walk in and stride my way. He looks so different without his customary suit of glaring white. Even naked, he is confident and sure.

And why shouldn’t he be?

I let myself be captured and bound and forced.

But it isn’t *real* force….this is what I deserve.

I follow the ridge of muscle upon his chest and his abdomen. I cannot bring myself to look further down though.

He is only an inch from me and he presents his back to me.

I notice the tan of his flesh….and images I am trying to banish come back to me….

Visions of a beautiful man, golden flesh and the rumble of laughter….hands on me and coaxing me and loving me….

Yohji will get over this. I know he will.

He has to.

The finals strings are cut as I lean forward and place my cold lips to his body, my tongue flicking over one side of his ass and then sucking a bit of it inward…pulling at the skin with teeth.

I keep telling myself the same thing, over and over and over and over…..this is what I deserve and what I am….just like a whore….just like a whore…..

I can only hope that those thoughts make it easier.

END

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