Short story about the discovery of love between two people.
This is a male-male romance. No sex is actively described in this story however, the story does contain some raunchy material. It is not necessarily appropriate for anyone under the age of 18 (though I cannot stop you from reading it). Either way, read at your own risk and enjoy! Let me know what you think.
As I stood in the shower I felt the warm sensation of the water running from my neck down my back and over my ass. I had one hand against the wall in front of me propping me up as I leaned my body forward, the other was behind me as I spread my ass cheeks letting the water seep into the crevice there. I winced as the burning sensation ripped through my body again. It was in this moment I wasn’t sure if this feeling meant I was in love or not. I know it sounded ridiculous, but these were thoughts I didn’t have quite often as I knew that if I did, well, my friends would look at me with a large amount of confusion. A few would even have considered the notion to be ridiculous. I knew it wasn’t the most intelligible thought I ever had, but I could feel something powerful in the air, and it wasn’t the steam from the scalding water. My thoughts were brought back to the present as I continued to wince at the hot water that assaulted my hole from being recently fucked by my boy—boyfriend? I wasn’t sure if that was the right word or not. We saw each other on weekends sometimes to go out to eat, sometimes catch a movie, or go to a concert. Then we would come back to my place, or head to his, and fuck two or three times until we were both warn out. Then he would fall asleep and I would leave, or I would fall asleep and he would leave. Was that love? That didn’t sound right. It didn’t quite feel like it. I mean, if you compare it to the romances that I read so much about in those cheesy books, then… I guess not. I wasn’t entirely sure. My head was spinning with so many questions. All I knew was that the burning sensation wasn’t as bad until I slid one of my fingers over to my just fucked hole and touched it, then another wave of pain shot up my spine. Yep, that’s tender. It always felt good though. Always. I could still recall the way his tongue felt against my tight hole, the way he teased my entrance with his finger while kissing each of my cheeks, up my back, and then to my neck where he would kiss all the way to my collarbone and then gently bite down. That was always nice. Was that love? Was it real love when I still felt the assault of his tongue on my entrance before slipping his finger in? The way the trail of kisses left my skin wanting for more? Was that what love felt like? I did not know. My body grew heavy, tense. My shoulders became easily tightened from the intense amount of questions unanswered there. I knew that the hot water wasn’t going to relieve the pressure there. I sighed. I recall trying to ask my best friend, one-time what love was, but he was too far under the influence of alcohol at the time and was slurring his words. I, on the other hand, only had one drink and I was done, which was so not like me. I recall how I stared at my second drink, only half way gone. I swirled the liquid around the glass and just watched as some droplets swashed over the edge and onto my hand or the bar. In that same memory, the bartender had scolded me, and I just left. My friend hadn’t noticed my absence since he never said anything. I ended up just driving home that night and not going over to Jerome’s. My boy—boyfriend? I still wasn’t sure what the right word was. The confusion was growing immensely and I doubted if it would have been easy for me to figure it all out. I shook my head.
“What is happening to you?” I said to myself aloud, thought it wasn’t much above a slight whisper. My voice echoed back to me and I could hear fatigue and what sounded to me like sadness laced in my voice. A dangerous combination of emotions to have so ripe in my system. Was it sadness? Nah, probably not. It was probably just the feeling of me growing weary. Weary of what exactly? Of not knowing where Jerome and I stand in our relationship? If I could even call it that. I guess these thoughts all started when Jerome told me that he had been talking with someone new. That thought alone sent my heart on a downward spiral and it hadn’t come up since. That was three hours ago. I wanted to say something, but my breath hitched in my throat, my words wouldn’t come out. He just shook his head at me and didn’t say another word as he gathered all his clothes, put them on one-by-one, and left. It was tough watching him leave, but my body stood rooted there for a good hour before I finally had the will to move. Once I did move my legs felt like jelly and I fell. I tried catching myself on the closest thing to me, which was my computer chair. It just rolled out from under my grasp and I hit the floor. I lay there for another hour just weeping as I curled my legs close to my chest. I hadn’t even known exactly what I was weeping about. I guess I just didn’t know better. I stood there, still in the shower, staring blankly ahead of me. I heard a sigh escape my lips and I was angry at myself for feeling the way I did. I slipped the hand away from my body that was once holding my ass cheeks open and I banged it against the shower wall. Hopefully my neighbors didn’t just hear that. Sorry, Mrs. Jones. The chaos that was my mind didn’t even cease to mourn the possibility that I could have woken my neighbor with the ruckus. My emotions roared within me asking more questions, like why do things have to be like this? Why can’t he just—Just what? Confess his undying love for me? Stay at arms-length where he should have been? Not be talking with or seeing someone else? Would he just leave me like everyone else? Bring me flowers and boxes of chocolate… Just because he felt like it? Tell me that he lo—I could feel my throat tighten with emotion and I could feel my eyes start to burn with more unshed tears. I closed my eyes tight and just breathed in and out trying to hold the tears at bay that threatened to wash against the sandy shore that is my skin. I shot my eyes open and I lifted my head up to look at the bathroom ceiling. It was void of anything specific to fixate my gaze. It was colorless, just like my life had started to feel. I looked at the shower wall ahead of me again watching moment by moment water droplets trickling down the side of the shower wall. As I stared it dawned on me that I should have been asleep right now, as I had to work early in the morning, but I recall how I couldn’t bring myself to lay on my bed, where he once was pressing me hard into the sheets as he fucked my ass senseless. I mindlessly reached my hand back toward the entrance of my hole and touched it, the burning sensation was still there. It reminded me of him. The pain brought me closer to him, somehow. The water still trickled its way down my body and in between my crack roaming over my entrance. The sting came again. I smiled at the feeling, even though it hurt. It reminded me that there was still a part of him that would forever be inside me. I smiled to myself, but it didn’t last long. The memory of him telling me that he was talking with someone else flooded back to me. I had wanted to ask if he fucked this person like he did me, held them the way he did me, kissed them the same way, looked at them the same way, even lov— I could feel the tears threaten again and I worked like hell to keep them inside me. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, inhaling and exhaling while trying to keep my tears from going over the edge. It took longer this time to break free from the urge to cry. With every passing moment, I could feel myself changing. Ever so slightly. It started a few months ago, it was the moment that he slept over at my place. He hadn’t meant to. He was going to leave in the middle of the night, but I guess he never got around to it, probably feeling too comfortable and at peace in my bed. When I woke up that next morning there were strong arms around me holding me close, his hot breath on my neck, his hand holding mine… It was the first time I had ever slept next to someone the whole night. I didn’t ever do that, it was too… personal. I was too afraid to let someone in again out of fear that they would leave in the middle of the night. It wasn’t something I could bare. I just always kept everyone at arm’s length. It seemed like it was easier for them and for me. It would keep me from getting hurt, and if I was careful, they wouldn’t either, but now that Jerome was in my life it was getting harder and harder to keep him back. Somewhere down the road I had let him in and now he wasn’t leaving… or at least I thought he wasn’t. That morning we woke up together I turned to face him and his eyes fluttered open and then closed again. A small smile formed on his face and he brushed my cheek with his thumb. I panicked deep down because I wasn’t familiar with what I was feeling.
“What are you still doing here?” Those were the first words I said to him. Slowly his hand slid away from my cheek, his eyes opened… I cringed at the memory of his expression. I could recall that he looked hurt as if I cast him out on the streets in nothing, but his underwear. No shirt, pants, or shoes. It’s not like I had done that, but thinking back on it then I didn’t even notice that he hadn’t talked to me for days. I didn’t realize it. I was in a bad mood those several days though and I hadn’t known why. My friend accused me of having my “time of month” and he even joked that if I didn’t quit being an ass he was going to shove a Snickers bar down my throat until I was happy again. The memory made me chuckle, but again, the happiness of that memory didn’t last long. I know now that I felt lost without him. Missed him. Just like I was—I am missing him now. A tear rolled down my cheek and a sob escaped my throat. I knew that this time I would not be able to hold back these tears. The sobs and tears came out of me in waves. I still had one hand holding me up, the other was clutched over my chest. My heart beat was rapidly increasing. The shaking in my body started ever so slowly, from my hand clutched over my chest, my shoulders, and then my legs. I collapsed down into the bath tub. I felt the pain from my raw entrance that sent a brutal reminder surging through me. The tears rolled from my eyes, but were washed away from the shower spray. Without looking, I slowly reached my arm out searching for the shower nob and then turned the water off once I found it. I shakily stood up and opened the curtain to the shower, swiftly reaching for my towel. I dried off as much as I could while my legs wobbled beneath my weight and my hands shook violently from the fear and sadness latching itself to my heart and soul. I then stepped out of the shower carefully as to not lose my balance. I began drying off the rest of my body and wrapped the towel around my waste. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were slightly puffy from the crying and my lips were quivering. What should I do? I didn’t know.
There was a large part of me that was feeling empty without him. The tears still falling gently down my face at the thought of him gone. I looked back at my reflection again and a bit of determination showed there. I felt a sudden urge to use that bit of determination and reached for my phone that I left on the counter. I dialed his number from memory and pressed the green button on the screen for it to dial out to him. It rang and rang and rang and rang and then… voicemail. It was a bittersweet feeling to hear his voicemail. I loved the sound of his voice playing over the recording. So deep and manly, a voice that whispered in my ears during sex and during movies, but I wanted to hear him talking to me. Hear him asking me why I was calling so late in the evening. Why I wasn’t asleep. I ended the call, not even leaving a voicemail. I looked at the time on the screen and noticed that it was a little passed one. I had to be awake in five hours. I knew I was going to regret not going to sleep, but I couldn’t.
As I walked into the bedroom from the bathroom, still wrapped in a towel, my eyes moved toward the direction of my bed. I cringed at the memories there. The sheets ruffled from our—love making. That was the word that came to mind in this moment. He always kissed me and fucked me like—like he loved me. I turned my body around in a panic at the thought of never feeling that way again and stormed back into the bathroom. I felt a compelling rise in determination again and, like before, I reached for my phone off the counter. I pushed the green button and his number reappeared for me to redial. I hesitated, but only for a moment. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and questioned what I was doing and then I hit the green button once more. This time without any hesitation. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang, and then… voicemail. Again. I did it a few more times before my heart began to feel crushed at the thought that he would never answer my calls again or that he would never look at me again. My tears burned in the back of my eyes, my fists clenched around my phone and I felt the extreme urge to punch the mirror… but I didn’t. I let the inanimate object live another day. Instead I sulked back into the bedroom where my empty bed was. I sat on the edge of it and just wept for a little while. My heart felt crushed, ripped from me, and I wanted to—I wanted my Jerome. Home with me. I sighed heavily and put my hand to my mouth as I gasped. There’s a realization. I looked up at the ceiling. My vision was blurry, but for only a moment before it regained focus. Staring at the ceiling I saw my life different, as if seeing it from someone else’s eyes or as if I was seeing it for the first time. This apartment wasn’t home. I only rented it for a large sum of money per a month. Anywhere that Jerome was, that was home. I looked around the room as if the answer to my next question was there. I knew that it wasn’t, deep down. I could see how empty the room felt without another body—Jerome’s body—moving around the space here.
I jolted up off the bed, my towel slipping from my body and landing on the floor. I felt a sense of resolve and ran over to my closet, gripping the closet door handle and throwing the door open. I stood there glancing around for a moment searching for the item I came in here for. My eyes darted every which way until I found it. I bent down grabbing the only duffel bag I had there. I snatched a t-shirt from the closet and put it on not even looking to see if I put it on the right way. Next, I ripped off a pair of sweatpants from the hanger in the closet, breaking the hanger. I slipped my legs into each of the leg holes one at a time, not even thinking to put underwear on. I shimmied them up my ass, still feeling the burning sensation in the crevice of my ass cheeks from the movement. I winced at the pain, but powered through it. I grabbed another shirt off a hanger, this time making sure not to break it, but only halfway succeeding when it hit the floor instead of breaking from the force. I glanced down at it and it didn’t appear cracked or broken. I stuffed the second shirt and a pair of jeans in the duffel bag for work tomorrow. I looked down at the shoes I had unknowingly slipped on my feet and figured they would have to suffice. I didn’t care. My mind was on one thing and one thing only… I wanted to be close to home. I sped out of the closet toward my dresser drawers opening all the drawers until I found the one that contained both my socks and underwear. I grabbed the first pair of each that I saw and stuffed them into my duffel bag along with the shirt and pants already in there. I picked my cell phone from off the bed where I had it last and walked into the living room. It was empty of any human life. Of Jerome. Just like my bedroom. These were material things, like my entertainment center, coffee table, couches, and rug on the floor. Decorations of different kinds and pictures of family hung on the walls. There was nothing else though. Nothing that made me feel… Whole. The feeling of loss hit me in a full-force wave and a tear streamed down my cheek. I wiped my eyes with my arm and choked back a sob that tried to escape. I took my focus over to where my car keys and wallet were on the counter and then began stuffing only my wallet into my bag as I walked toward my front door. I gripped the handle tightly and opened the door. I swiftly exited my apartment and shut the door behind me. The adrenaline from my body surged and my heart raced. I fiddled with my keys to find the right one, dropping them a few times before I could gain my composure long enough to stick the key into the keyhole to lock it. When the key wouldn’t lock it dawned on me that I had chosen the wrong key and I had to shuffle through them again to find the right key. This time I succeeded and I locked the door. I exhaled relieved. I raced down the steps of my apartment on the second floor, almost tripping, but successfully making it down. I then sprinted to my car with the same force of resolve emanant within me. I pushed the button on the key to unlock the car from a distance and, once I was by it, I reached for the door handle and tugged it open. I tossed my duffel bag into the passenger seat and sat down closing the door. I had a much easier time starting my car. Once my car was on, I put my car in reverse pulling out of the parking space quickly. Once I was a safe distance from the car in front of me, I put my car in gear and stepped on the gas jerking the car forward and sped as fast as I could out of the apartment complex parking lot, dodging as many speed bumps as I could manage.
The whole drive to Jerome’s was silent. I didn’t listen to any music just sat in silence staring at the road ahead of me while torturing myself with the thoughts I was having. A few cars passed by me, their lights blinding me while the tears that slowly seeped out blurred my vision. It seemed that I got to his house in no time, though I sat in an empty parking space with the car off, but the keys still in the ignition, and my hands clutching the steering wheel. I feared that if I gripped the steering wheel any longer that it would snap from the pressure I was placing on it. I turned my head to the left and outside my car window was his apartment bedroom window. Unlike me, Jerome was on the first floor. The nervousness began and I could feel a rush of anxiety shoot itself into my system like a shot of adrenaline. I looked away from his apartment for only a moment and grabbed my duffel bag from the seating, holding onto the handle as if it meant my life was in that bag. I ripped the keys out of the ignition and I made myself finally get out of the car. I sauntered in the direction of his apartment door. The front door was growing closer and closer with each step. My legs felt weighted under me and my pulse quickened. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead. Finally, I was at his apartment door. Once I stood there in front of his apartment my hand hovered over the door for what felt like a lifetime, though it may have only been two minutes. Finally, I knocked. The sound seemed to echo loudly outside, and I could only imagine the noise it made inside. I stood there for several moments, listening to the blood rushing in my ears, my head throbbing, my heart beating in anticipation, my knuckles turning white as I held on as hard as I could to the duffel bag, and my eyes staring blankly at the door waiting for it to open. Part of me stood there questioning if I should knock again. I almost did, but then I thought that maybe he wasn’t answering because the new guy may have been in there. Ensnared in the sheets that Jerome and I had been on so many times before. Jerome kissing him, holding him the same way he held me when we fucked. The hand that was once clenched into a fist hovering just above the door was silently tapping at it wishing that it would just open. I sobbed silently to myself feeling pathetic for coming all the way over here just to be out in the cold with no jacket on. No heart to hold onto as it was now on the ground. I lay my head against the door and just wept for a little while, crying for the loss that I was now suddenly experiencing. It seemed that I would never get back what I once had.
I pushed my head off the door and knocked once more. This time, it didn’t take much longer before I heard shuffling behind the door. Someone fiddling with the locks before the door opened. There stood Jerome. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his light brown skin casting a slight glow in the moonlight, his black hair was long on the top and disheveled, maybe from restlessness, copper colored eyes weary looking at me in confusion, and a hint of… something else. I wanted to say it was hope, but I wasn’t sure if that was just what I was feeling. We both just stood there in silence, I caught him a few times clench his jaw and then his gaze slowly skimmed down until stopping in the direction of my duffel bag. His gaze was fixated on it for a long time and his jaw clenched tight. I took the moment to stare at all his muscles, just in case he told me that his new lover was there and that I couldn’t see him anymore. I took in the contour of his stomach muscles, how they were well-sculpted, shaping, and forming into his pectoral muscles, his strong broad shoulder, his tall and bulky frame that filled out his arms. Strong hands and strong arms blocking the pathway into his apartment. He wore dark black basketball shorts which brought out the color of his skin as well. I realized I had been staring much too long and when I looked back at him I was surprised to see his eyes were on me. Even in the glint of the moonlight I could see the beauty in his eyes that always captured me, swallowed me whole when he looked at me.
He broke my thoughts, “What are you doing here, Calvin?” I closed my eyes just enjoying the sound of his voice and how his deep, strong voice was music to my ears, and even my heart. I was sure that it skipped a beat when he spoke to me. I inhaled and exhaled. I clutched tightly onto the duffel bag again. My courage was fleeting and my pulse quickening again. I imagined that no one would be able to take this bag from me if they dare tried. I looked down and back up at his face again.
“Is he here?” I heard myself ask, my voice came out hoarse and it sounded weak, even to my ears. I looked deep into his eyes searching for the answer.
“Is who—?” He stopped talking and I could see for a moment the pain that lay dormant in his copper-colored eyes and the look of guilt that slowly crept into his gaze that was still on me. Jerome looked away for a moment before looking at me, his emotions masked, his stare growing hard and cold, “No, he isn’t.” Jerome finally responded, his voice came out flat, but strong.
I gulped. I felt a flicker of hope rise deep inside of me, a growing flame that seemed like it could burn forever. As our eyes connected his one cold glare immediately extinguished what little hope was burning inside me. I cringed. Then I licked my lips slowly and cleared my throat trying to keep the hoarseness out of my voice so I could speak, “May I come in?” I finally asked. My voice was just slightly above a whisper this time and I was pleased that it didn’t come off scratchy. It took Jerome a moment to think before nodding his head. He moved away from the door and let me walk passed him. My skin brushed against his and it was the first time in what felt like a long time that my body was completely aware of him. The skin where we touched was burning with a sensation for him to touch me again and never stop touching me. I smiled and a flare of hope sparked in my chest like it had before. The light turned on above me and with a smile I looked at him, but when my eyes met his… he wasn’t happy to see me? He reached his hand out to me and I took it, dropping the duffel bag where I normally did. We had been here before. Me standing at his door step with this same duffel bag filled with clothes for work. Those times I was here for sex, this time I had a lot on my mind that couldn’t wait till morning. I felt excited that we would finally get to talk, me being serious and him giving me a chance. I could see it now. I could feel myself starting to smile. I followed behind him without hesitation as he pulled me through the hallway and into his room. Just by the small light that seeped into the room I could see him going over to the side of the bed where he kept his condoms and lube. He opened it up pulling a condom out and the bottle of lube setting them on the bed. My smile vanished instantly.
“This is what you came for, isn’t it?” He said, his voice accusing and distant. The burning hope that had returned once again was now gone only to be replaced by the cold feeling in my heart. Where there was once warmth when he saw me there was nothing, he wasn’t even looking at me like the way he always did. This felt a lot like a business transaction, no emotion whatsoever. My legs began to tremble growing weak beneath my weight. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. My legs felt rooted in place there. I willed myself to speak, I even prayed to a God that I did not believe in to give me the will to speak. When I opened my mouth… Nothing. “Well,” he continued, “Are you going to stand there or are we going to get this over with so you can go home and I can get back to sleep.” His words felt like a punch to my heart, hard enough that it felt as though my heart stopped beating. I closed my eyes and I imagined that in a moment I would wake up to that morning after he stayed over and I would be waking up to that smile again so I could make things better. It was as if, while standing there, I could feel my blood coursing through my veins. Every drop of it. The movement of the life giving liquid speeding through the highways of my veins trying to get to my heart that was working overtime to give me as much life as it could so that I could move, or even speak, or something, before he did cast me outside.
“I—I—I’m—” My mouth wasn’t forming words.
“Will you just—”
I cut him off, “No I’m not here for that!” I shouted. I shut my eye tight and clenched my fist. My pain boiled deep within me, rising like a volcano and ready to explode my blood and guts all over the room. My legs grew weaker still and I could hear the distant sound of my blood rushing in my ears
He became angry, “Then what are you—”
I cut him off again feeling no guilt, “I’m here to ask you—no, beg you… Don’t leave me!” I shouted. It was that moment my body collapsed to the ground and I began to cry. Everything I was holding back, the tsunami of my tears flowed out of me and the sobs jerked my whole body. I was now fully aware of everything that I was feeling. I now truly knew why I was here. My brain now registered what it meant to not know what I had until it was gone, in this case, until it was walking away from me. I looked up and around to see if there was any sign that someone else had been here besides me. Nothing. I felt a sense of relief that didn’t last very long. I heard movement and I looked up to see Jerome walking toward me. He stopped in front of me and I looked down. One moment I was staring at the wood floor in the faint light, the next I was in his arms. His strong hold was on me and his hand was rubbing my back. He smelled so good. Like citrus and musk, a scent that I loved, a scent that is Jerome. I closed my eyes and strongly inhaled hoping that this scent would never come off my body or that it would forever be implanted on my brain so that I would never know loss again. Just as long as I had it.
“What’s this all about?” Jerome asked me. His voice was gentle, a note of concern laced within his voice.
“Jerome, I—I—I—I…” I choked on a sob, “I love you.” I heard myself say. I wrapped my arms around him tighter and held on with all the strength I could muster so that he couldn’t walk away. I could feel Jerome grow stiff and his fingers stopped gently circling my back.
He didn’t pull away, “You—You what?” I detected surprise in his voice with that question. Again, I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but I was certain I detected hope there as well.
I pulled away, but didn’t unwrap my arms from around him, still afraid that he would let me go too. I stared into the depths of his eyes seeing his eyes soft again, but in some pain at my words. “Jerome… I said—” I swallowed hard, trying to keep the sobs from breaking out of me, “I said, I love you.” Jerome’s eyes lit up and for the first time I saw the man that I once knew come back to me.
He smiled, the most brilliant smile I had ever come to know. The light in his eyes only grew brighter and I felt his heart skip a beat. I knew that there was no other smile that I could ever want again. I stared at him for a while and then buried my face into his neck and kissed him there. The overwhelming emotions I had made me start crying again. The tears trickled down and I tried to be quiet, but a sob sounded in the silence.
“I’m sorry for sending you away that morning several months ago,” I began to apologize, “I saw what it did to you. I—I don’t want you to leave me,” I pleaded. I shook my head and my body began to tremble again beneath his touch. This apology was all I had, I continued, “You are the only one I want and when you told me about that—that—that guy you are—are talking to. I just—I just can’t see you with—someone else. Please. Please don’t go. Love me instead.” I begged. My eyes were sealed shut, my breathing growing more erratic as I spoke. I had never begged before. I had never in my life wanted someone so much that it hurt me to want them or to need them. The idea that Jerome could love someone else made my stomach feel so queasy that I could just hurl. Jerome just stood in silence not saying anything. I began to doubt myself thinking that I was too late, that my apology or what I was saying wasn’t enoguh. As the silence stretched my heart began to crumble inside of me. I thought that there was hope, but I guess I was wrong. I just stood there a little while longer listening to his breathing and heart beat one last time. I knew that if this was to be the last time he held me like this that I would remember this moment before taking it to my grave. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled. “I—I’m sorry, I guess I—I just thought that,” I paused before speaking again, “Maybe I should just go.” I finally said. My body immediately went numb at the words and I began to feel nauseous. I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat begging for the nausea to go away. I clenched my jaw and tightened my fist. My resolve started to slip away. I gave it all I had. I couldn’t blame him if this wasn’t enough, and I knew that. I kissed his neck one last time and went to pull away, but his strong arms steeled me against him and held me. “No!” He screamed, the fear evident in his voice, “Don’t—Don’t go. I love you too, Calvin.” He confessed, “I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner, I just… had to make sure this wasn’t a—you know—a dream,” In that moment my pulse quickened and my heart beat faster. I was about to speak when I heard him ask, “Do you really love me?” I could sense again the fear that was thick. His voice that was normally strong came out in a whisper with that question. The love I felt for this man burned powerfully inside me. I knew that I would never let anything come between us. I just knew that whatever obstacles came our way now we could survive together. I smiled. A tear rolled down my face. I looked up at him only to see him smiling down at me.
“Yes,” Was the only word I could say without much effort. Jerome leaned in and kissed me. This kiss felt urgent and sloppy, but it felt good. It felt like him. I threw my arms around his shoulder and pulled him into me to kiss him harder. His tongue pushed against my lips, begging me to open for him, and I did. Our tongues collided in sensation that was unrivaled by any other. I enjoyed the way that, even his kisses could make me feel weak. I melted into him. The kisses slowed down, growing longer, gentler, sweeter. He then released our embrace and dragged me to the bed, never letting go of my hand once. He stuck his finger up as a signal to give him a moment. I saw him first shove the condom and lube bottle he had taken out of the nightstand from earlier onto the floor. Next, he laid down and then pulled me onto the bed. I motioned my body to lay next to him. I was now locked in his embrace again, our bodies melding together like a work of art. I inhaled deeply and exhaled. My eyes were closed and I just reveled at the feel of us like this. Us. That word brought me peace. I slowly breathed in and out a few times more until my breathing slowed. His arms were wrapped around me and I rested my hand over his. Our fingers now intertwined. Before drifting off to sleep I felt a soft kiss on my neck. His breath hot on the nape of my neck.
For a moment, we lay in silence. The feel of his breath and the strength of his arms holding me calmed me. I then heard his deep, calming voice in my ear just slightly above a whisper, “There will be no one else but you.” He told me.
With every fiber of my being I knew it was true. A smile crept across my lips and I replied, “No one else, but you.”
© Donovan G. Ward
I am attending college online with Grand Canyon University (GCU) for an English Teaching degree for Secondary Education. The first question I was asked when I made the decision to embark on this journey to be a teacher was, "Why do you want to be a teacher?" My response: "It is not for the money." Regardless, I am looking forward to being a teacher and am on this blog as part of a college course. I have written (never published) books and poetry of all kinds and have a love for writing in general. I have never done a blog before so we will see how this goes. Let's do this!