With his intense stare fixed on mine, he pushes inside, forcing a rush of emotion buried deep inside my mind to the surface. It burns a little as he stretches me and a silent tear seeps from the corner of my eye – not because of the discomfort, but from the fact I feel whole, complete, for the first time in my life. I realise, when he stills, allowing my body to mould to him, that we’re connected more deeply than I ever thought possible. Body and soul. Heart to heart. He’s the piece of me I never knew I was missing.
“Move, Theodore,” I choke out, my ass pulsating around him, begging for his delicious friction.
He does. He slips in and out torturously slowly, wiping the tear that I didn’t feel fall from my cheek. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’m here.”
I don’t speak. I can barely breathe as he cups the back of my neck, his other hand gripping my thigh as he plunges into me a little faster. The sting has disappeared, replaced with a craving for him to go harder, deeper…and as if he can read the demand in my expression, he does.
“Fuck, James,” he pants, glowing heat crawling across his neck, spreading onto his pale chest.
Hand still on my cock, I start to tug, knowing it will be over in seconds. “I’m close, Theodore,” I say through gritted teeth, pressure building in my balls as a violent quiver shoots down my spine.
“Let go,” he says. “Let everything go.”
“Ah…Th…” The words stutter in my throat as a bomb of pleasure detonates deep inside my belly. “Th…fuck!” My legs tighten, locking around Theodore’s back as my cock twitches in my hand, coating his stomach with jets of hot cum.
Theodore smiles, drawing his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “Your face is stunning when you come,” he whispers, palming my cheek. It’s the calm before the storm. After brushing my lips with his, he straightens his back, grabbing both of my legs and using them as leverage as he starts pounding me so hard, so deep, the rug moves beneath us.
“Oh my God,” he groans, drilling into me over and over again. His hips thrust relentlessly and I reach out, working the mixture of sweat and cum into his heated skin with the pads of my fingers.
“James I’m…oh…shit, yes…”
I feel the moment he comes. I see it on his face, hear it in his breath. It’s exquisite.
“Fuck, I love you,” I say again as he drops my legs and collapses onto my chest. “I’m so sorry, Theodore.”
“No.” Raising his head, he angles his face right in front of mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare apologise for letting me know who you are. All of you. I told you I was here for you, through light and dark, and I meant it.”
I never doubted him, I still don’t, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair. A disagreement over furniture pushed me over the edge today. Fucking furniture. I live my life balancing on a set of scales, the slightest weight tipping me into darkness. The problem is each time that happens, they never quite rebalance. Theodore’s presence is enough to keep me teetering in the middle, but if he leaves, if he jumps off that scale, my weight will break it, and I will plummet beyond salvation.
That’s not a responsibility anyone should have to carry, especially someone I love more than anything in the world. My life is hard, dark, complicated. Theodore’s isn’t, and I don’t want to take that from him, but I’m too weak to walk away. I’m not strong enough to live without him, or with the knowledge that I’ve caused him pain by pushing him away.
If I stay with him, I’ll hurt him. If I leave him, I’ll hurt him. But if I was to disappear altogether, he’ll hurt for a little while and then move on. He’ll learn to smile again.
I think I know what I have to do.
“What are you thinking about?”
His voice snaps me back into reality. “Hmm?”
“You look…lost.”
Tell him. You know what you’re considering is wrong. Irrational.
“No, Theodore.”
Tell him how you feel. Ask for help.
“I’m not lost.”
Be honest. Tell him!
“I actually think, for the first time, I know exactly where I’m heading.”
You’re lying. You’re misleading him. You’re a fucking coward.
He can help you.
I ignore the voice of my subconscious because it’s wrong. People have spent years trying to help me and they’ve failed. They failed because it’s impossible. I was born broken. There’s nothing to restore. The time has finally arrived for me to accept that, and I think I have. Nobody else will of course, especially Theodore.
More talking therapy. More drugs. More support – that will be his answer.
But it’s all bullshit. I’m back at rock bottom, again, and I’m too fucking tired to climb back to the top, knowing I’ll only fall down again eventually.
“Have you thought about making a doctors appointment?” Theodore asks, his cheek resting over my heart, our bodies still intertwined.
“I will. I’ll call them tomorrow.” It’s a lie part of me hopes I don’t see through. I know I should see a doctor, and I’m going to try and talk myself out of giving up. I’m past caring about myself but, although I don’t understand why or how, there are people who care about me and I need to find the energy to do this for them.
What’s wrong with you?
Haven’t got the balls to put these people out of their misery?
You can’t do anything right.
Your mother is right; you don’t see anything through.
Knowing Theodore will be able to feel it, I attempt to calm my racing heart by taking deep breaths through my nose. My mind is fucked, my thoughts, my subconscious, conflicted. I don’t understand what my head wants me to do and I’m quickly losing touch with reality, with what I should do.
I’m so tired.
“Let’s go to bed,” Theodore suggests, rolling off me and peeling the condom from his softened cock. “Everything is always clearer after a good night’s sleep.”