Page 60 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

I hold the back of his head, my hips rising to match his pace. He palms the bed for the lube and hollows his cheeks. It’s a blur of pure need, panic, and lust while he preps me. Once his hips meet my ass, I grab his face, wrap my legs around his waist and whimper against his lips.

“Harder, Eli,” I growl.

“No, baby. Just like this.” He grinds into me slowly.

I kiss the cherry blossom petals on his neck, feeling a sob work up my throat. “I swear to god if you leave—”

He silences me with a kiss, flicking his hips to nail my prostate. It’s going to be a torturous incline before I come. He’s making sure I feel every fucking inch on each thrust, feel how full I am. He’s branding his body to mine, feeding me his breaths. He’s ruining me.

“Just fuck me. Don’t do this.”

He props himself up on a forearm, stares into my eyes, and slams into me hard. My dick bobs and leaks, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’m enjoying this. It always feels so good with him, but this is wrong. He’s fucking…makingloveto me. And I hate it. I fuckinghate it.

“You’re beautiful, baby. I could look at you like this all day.”

“Then do it,” I growl. “Look at me all the time.”

His eyes flutter shut as he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. Pressing his cheek against mine, he nuzzles me sweetly. He reaches down to stroke my taint firmly, and I can’t help the moan that rips out of me. Every inch of my body he’s memorized, learned to weaponize against me. “Fuck, you’re so hard,” he praises, cupping my balls and kneading them.

I try to flip us so I can ride him, but he grabs my hands and holds them above my head. It’s not that I can’t overpower him because I can, but I get stuck on the look he’s giving me—the sadness in his eyes, the white flag he’s got waving in the air.

“Sweetheart,” I say and moan again because he’s fucking me just right. My stomach flexes while my dick throbs.

“Come for me, baby. I know you want to.”

I shake my head. He kisses me stupid. It’s demanding and filthy. Breaths and tongues. My balls hug my shaft, and I clench around him.

No. It’s too fast.

Once it’s over…it’sover.

Releasing one of my hands, he circles his around my dick and jerks me. I swallow hard, chin wobbling while my orgasm teeters. I’m so close. He sucks my nipple, thrusts into me, and I take it. I take every second of pleasurable torture. My heart cracks and bleeds, the newly reviving organ starting to die all over again.

“I love you,” I say, but it comes out like a beg.

He smiles down at me, eyelashes wet. “I know.” He flicks his wrist, fucks me harder, and I come.

It hits me hard and fast. My dick throbs in his fist while I unload into it. The moan rips from my throat, only to be swallowed by his frantic kisses. My hole clenches and flutters while he uses me, breaks me. I hold his face as tightly as I can, keeping my legs firmly wrapped around him.

“No one feels like you, baby,” he whispers against my lips and comes. I feel every pulse, every subtle flex of his cock while he sears me from the inside out.

The post-orgasm wave of euphoria feels dirty. My eyes feel like lead weights. I keep us connected, chests flush. I kiss his cheek, his nose—everywhere. I’ll cling to him like a Koala. Keep him right here so I'll feel it if he moves even a millimeter. His cock softens and slowly slips out of me, but I still don’t move. Neither does he.

We lay together like this for a long time. I stroke his back and listen to his soft breaths against my neck. When he starts to get cold, I throw the blanket over us. I try to stay awake because I’m terrified of what’s waiting if I close my eyes. But try as I might, they keep shutting. I wrench them open, squeeze Eli tighter, and force myself not to cry.

More time passes while I play with his hair, smell his skin, feel his cum drying between my legs.

It’s pathetic. I know it is.

It’s selfish, but I’ve never claimed to be anything else.

If he wants to leave, he’s going to. I won’t be able to stop him. It doesn’t mean I’m not wishing with everything in me that he stays. That he lets me love him. And with that soul-crushing wish firmly projected into the universe, I feel myself fading—vaguely aware of a soft brush of lips before sleep comes for me.

“Eli,” I gasp, arms flailing as my cold bed greets me.

Helios is curled at my feet, but there's no one else. I launch from the bed.

Frantically grabbing some sweats, I throw them on and grab a hoodie on my way out. His suitcase is gone, and the silence in the apartment is deafening.

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