Page 95 of Facing Off
I pick up speed, trying to ignore thestarvationcarved into my expression.
Stop making it worse.Finish already.
But it can’t be about her frowns and wanting to memorize each one as if it’s deeply critical knowledge. I need to fuck my fist to something much, much dirtier. Think about her mouth again, but have her stick her tongue out and you tap that with your cock, and?—
I’m holding her again.
She’s in my arms, and we’re talking to each other. It’s safe to whisper secrets, to peel back and expose what’s lived in the cramped dark inside us for so long. Our dreams, memories, fears, hopes, joy.
She knows Jesse’s name.How did that happen? I don’t ever talk about him.
Somehow, I told her.
I bite back another groan
…and then dinner…
I’m used to showboating with stories to impress and make people laugh. But her? I told her about crappy jobs and growing up poor and shitty dads. Unfiltered clumsy pieces of myself…that she listened to…
My balls tighten.
I’m about to lose it.
But it shouldn’t be to this.
Every muscle in my body tenses as my mind scrambles. I should fantasize about having her on my lap again, and I do, but her hands are lightly touching my shoulder, and I’ve got my arms wrapped around her, nuzzling her neck from behind, and we’re—we’re?—
My release spurts all over my hand. It’s a mess that won’t stop coming out.
My hard length jerks again.More? How much more is there?
It’s sloppy and abundant, dripping everywhere. I need to clean up, but before I do, I look in the mirror again. My chest heaves up and down and that same panicked expression hasn’t left me.
My head is spinning and I don’t know where to go, but it’s clear I need some sort of emergency intervention because I got off on us…
Talking. Not only that, butcuddlingand talking.
The cleanup takes a few minutes, and afterwards I pull out my phone. My head bows and I chew on my lip as I open the group chat. Can I do this? Should I do this? I don’t want to, but panic bubbles so close to the surface of my body that I almost taste it, and I need advice. Desperately. And I’ll never tell them names, that it’s about Sonya.
I send a message, praying my two best friends aren’t busy. My hands aren’t steady as I type.
ME
So hypothetical situation
QUINN
Your hypothetical situations are never hypothetical
ME
This one is
I’m hard and it’s not that I don’t want to be
QUINN
Dude, no
