Just a short story I thought of.

Enjoy.


I wasn't surprised when the man entered my room, sneaking through the window, nor was I surprised when he approached me, no fear evident on his handsome face.

No, why would I be afraid? The man knew that no one would find out, that he would never be found out. He was manipulative, cunning, perhaps a little insane but that never stopped him, nor did I. The man stopped at the side of my bed, a faint smile on his face; gloved hand held out. I took it and held it to my face, kissing the skin at my wrist where the edge of the glove stopped. He let out a faint sigh and placed the fingers on his free hand underneath my chin, lifting my head up so that I could meet his eyes. His expressive, blue eyes.

My eyes closed slightly and the corner of his lips twitched. He lent in slightly; his nose softly grazed my cheek, his warm breath ghosted over my skin. He then breathed my name, 'Sebastian,' and backed away from me, straightening up again. His gaze met mine and I knew what was next. Not removing my gaze from his eyes, I reached forward and placed on his hip, the other taking his zipper between my fingers and slowly pulling it down.

He was hard, as usual.

Gazes intact, I slowly wrapped my hand around the base of his member and gave him a small, gentle squeeze. His expression did not falter. Suddenly and perhaps not unexpected, I pulled my gaze away from his and lent forward, taking a swipe at his pre-come before swallowing him whole. I never understood whether I enjoyed doing this or not. I was past the point of wondering; past the point of caring. Perhaps the activity was too much of a common thing to be questioned by me.

I felt a hand on the top of my head, tightly gripping my hair and forcing my head down further. I coughed slightly and pulled back, gripping at my throat. He waited a few moments before grunting and forcing my head back down.

Once again I swallowed him whole, head bobbing, mouth sucking, suckling, licking until, finally, his seed trickled down my throat. I pulled away and wiped my mouth, glancing up to meet his gaze once again. His eyes were half lidded, eyes glazed with lust as he panted. His mouth struggled to make words but before he could utter a sound, I gripped his arm and pulled him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. It was expected, after all.

Seemingly realizing the reality of the situation and his actions, he gave a soft sigh and reached up to cradle my head in his hands. I closed my eyes and lent into them, enjoying their warmth before reopening my eyes and surveying him. He was doing the same, staring at me mournfully; almost... pityingly.

If anyone were to be pitied, perhaps it was him.

I placed my hands over his and slid them down my face, neck, shoulders, sides before finally... finally they rested on my waist. He closed his blue eyes and began stripping my lower half; breeches being thrown somewhere beyond my knowledge and caressing the skin beneath his fingers. I let out a shuddered breath and threw my head back as his hands explored my body, brushing against my throbbing member, abdomen the skin above my equally throbbing heart; my nipples. There he paused his exploration, pinching, squeezing knowing how weak it made me.

He believed my expression during these moments became me; told me that I should show that expression to no one but him. I agreed wholeheartedly.

Tongue sweeping across my bottom lip, I peeked at him behind my eyelids, panting. Meeting his almost questioning glance, I gave a slight nod and, suddenly I was thrown onto my stomach and a sharp paint ripped into me. I let a painful gasp slip through my lips as he penetrated me before letting out a weak moan and burying my face into my blankets, fisting them tightly and tried to keep in my cries.

It was such a terrible, agonizing feeling when he did that but a part of my liked it; felt pleasured by it. It made me feel sick yet so good! Too good.

Human, even.

His hands ran up my back, continuing his exploration from before as he continued to pound into me. His wonderful, wonderful hands felt amazing yet dirty. I did not understand how one could feel that way, yet somehow I did.

No words were shared during these moments; not a single sound other than gasps, pants and faint moans and groans.

When he climaxed, I would follow soon after and he would collapse on top of me, panting painfully hard. By that time I would be drifting in and out of consciousness and would only faintly hear his soft words which I could never decipher. I was always too tired to do so.

When I finally came to, he would already be dressed, head in his hands. I would slowly sit up, blanket falling around my waist and slowly wrap my arms around his hunched form and rest my forehead on his back. Those confusing feelings that continued to haunt me whenever he was around would come rushing back and, for a moment I would know why I felt the way I did about him; it was always on the tip of my tongue before, suddenly, the thought would rush out of my mind as quickly as it came and I would lost it.

Perhaps I would, one day catch the thought before it disappeared. Perhaps not. Sometimes I thought of asking but I always doubted that he would know himself. Things have always been this way; for as long as I could remember we had done this and I knew it would never stopped. Unless we were caught; if we were caught. This was a risk and we both knew who would get the blame.

He would gladly take it as well. The guilt was always evident on his face afterwards and sometimes I was glad. I never consented to this activity and some would call it assault; rape.

But then again, it wouldn't. It has happened for so long and yet it has not been reported. It didn't matter that he was my closest friend; what he did was wrong and he knew it. I knew it as well, and yet...

He would then push my arms away and stand up, staring at the far wall for a few moments before turning back to me and kneeling beside my bed. Once again, he would cup my face in his hands, whisper, "I'm sorry." before kissing me soundly on the lips and climbing out of my window. I would stare at the window, watching his figure disappear down the side of the building before lifting my hand to my lips and closing my eyes. I both missed and hated him and once he was gone, I gritted my teeth and pulled my blanket up and laid back, putting out my candle and staring into the dark, thoughts of him replaying continuously in my mind.

Perhaps I was a little crazy too.