Page 49 of Creatures Like Us
“Fuck,” he mumbles, voice low and rough.
“What?…?what do you want me to?…” Despite the kissing, my mouth is all dry again, affected by the nerves coursing through my body.
Asher sighs. “Can we just?…?keep kissing for a bit?”
I let out a relieved breath. “Yeah.” Things were getting so real so fast, and I still can’t tell if I’m ready to go through with those things. Kissing feels a little more harmless, even though it sets my body on fire.
Asher grips me by the back of the neck again and pulls me in, and as our lips meet, he lets his hand shift to grip my throat instead.
“You like it better like that,” he mumbles against my lips. “Don’t you?”
I give a muffled groan in reply. Without our awareness, our bodies have chased each other and lined themselves up—our arousal united, rubbing and thrusting as one. It feels like I’m coming apart and being put back together at the same time. Our bodies fit each other so well; it’s as if they know exactly what to do, even when our minds are lacking.
We keep kissing, bodies hot and entwined, and we keep rocking toward each other, possessed, building up to a crescendo. I grip the small of his back to bring us even closer?…?to reach that final push toward release?…
“Fuck,” Asher groans, eyes pinching closed. “Noah, I?…”
I want to reassure him, but I’m not in a much better state myself—riding on the wave of my orgasm, thrusting and rolling my hips, chasing that feeling and Asher’s heated skin on mine. Part of me wishes we weren’t clothed, but at the same time, I think being naked would have been too much to handle for us both.
When it’s over, Asher is gasping, catching his breath, and I’m stroking his hair, sliding his locks between my fingertips, in total awe at how soft they feel, and in equal awe of how content I am to just be close to him in this moment. And even though I might not deserve him—even though our days together may be numbered—for now, we are one.
Later on, I sneak upstairs and into the shower, intending to surprise him with an early breakfast.
In his company, and especially when he treats me the way he did this morning, everything seems okay between us, but in his absence, a slew of doubts creeps in. They well over me like the stream of the shower, washing away the evidence of our coupling.
It wasn’t sex, what we did this morning—not really. At least, I don’t think so. It felt like it though; it felt?…?loving.
My cheeks heat up, and I turn the thermostat way down to compensate for the warmth in my chest and the stirring of heat between my legs. The last few days, that part of me has been more attentive than ever in my life. Even when I was a teenager, I have no recollection of it reacting that often and that severely. All it takes now is the thought of Asher and what we did this morning for my blood to rush to my dick. I grip it thoughtfully, thinking I’ll just clean myself, but before I know it, the feeling swells, and my touches end up firmer, quicker, more purposeful.
I think of this morning: Asher’s tongue pressed to mine, our bodies united?…?His hand on my throat, squeezing hard as he came, whimpering my name?…
It feels like a compulsion, pleasuring myself to the thoughts of him. It feels wrong, somehow, and I don’t really know why. I can’t continue. I shouldn’t.
I rest a hand on the tile wall and let go of myself, willing the ache to subside. It’s throbbing down there, begging for touch, but I remain stoic as I turn the shower off, dry myself, and set to making breakfast.
I use the last loaf of Auntie’s bread and the last bit of cheese from the fridge. I’ll have to go grocery shopping eventually, but the numbers on my bank account are meager, and there’s no more money coming in.
I never expected I’d need it. I never expected to live this long.
Downstairs, Asher is lying on his side, facing the wall. I’d think he was still sleeping, but when I put the plate of food by the bed, he speaks up.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
He turns halfway, and his eyes look reddened, as if he’s been crying. The sight is like a hand squeezing around my heart.
“Goldilocks, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t think?…” He sucks in a shaky breath before he continues, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t think I want to have sex with you. At least?…?not yet. Not with the way we are.”
“The way we are?”
“You know what I mean.” He sits up and starts tugging on his handcuff, agitated. “This. This place.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to have sex.” My voice is dull, emotionless, but inside, my heart is beating loudly, and the residual ache from the shower screams in protest.
It’s true though; we don’t have to have sex. In fact, there’s a strange relief associated with the absence of touch, but at the same time, my mind is screaming at the prospect of never getting to put my hands on Asher in that way again, even though I don’t deserve to do so. I can settle for kissing; kissing isn’t sex, right? In the absence of kissing, I can settle for his hand on my throat.
