Doing the deal

All right, this isn’t a full-length story and is a little different from what I usually write. I’m still working on the other, full-length story, and with all my other work, it’s taking time. So I thought I would whip up a really short story in the meantime.

Sex, yes. Fucking, no. Emotion, plenty of it.

Grammatical errors, flames and criticisms go here: brand_new_writer@yahoo.com
Enjoy!
- brand new writer
******
You don’t fool me.

You have mastered the art of impassivity. You trust no-one. You hide in your own little world. You don’t ask questions. You don’t tell secrets. You have a brave face and you think you have all the answers.

But on this languid Saturday morning, you don’t fool me.

You stare to ahead blankly, as I lie beside you, your naked body spooning mine, your left hand playing with my curly red hair and your right hand resting between my breasts. Your skin is still hot and your cunt is still wet from our morning lovemaking. Soon, I will crawl onto your chest, listening to your heartbeat, hearing it betray you.

You can’t rebuff me with your silence. Not today.

I get up off the bed, and stand at the foot of it, gazing into the dark pools that you have in your eyes. Deceitful eyes. The eyes that keep you so far away from me.

“Stop staring,” you snap, a hint of anger in your tone. “I may be blind, but I can sense where you’re standing.”

I smile.

“Stop smiling,” you protest. How can you know me this well, and still deny that you love me?

Oh, I haven’t forgotten. This is not a relationship, this is an arrangement. You told me not to hope and not to anticipate and not to wonder. You told me, I heard you, and I agreed, and what I’m doing is breaking a promise. And I’m sorry. But this is entirely your fault. *You* can’t seem to make up your mind, detached one moment, tender another. The tender moments won and now it’s too late.

You read my thoughts, as usual. “Lynn, you’re fooling yourself.”

“Am I, Kim?” I ask, my heart beating. “Or is it *you*?”

You sigh. “No,” you say, gently. “It isn’t me.” That bravado again.

I get into bed beside you. I try to push you down on your back so that I can rest my body on yours. “Don’t you dare try it,” you say, fighting me off. You are stronger than I am. Normally, I don’t stand a chance. Right now, I am angry and the adrenaline is pumping. You can push me off as many times as you want, but I will keep coming back.

“Fuck you,” you growl, panting heavily, the both of us feeling each other’s warm breath as our bodies tangle together. You dig your nails into my skin and you bite my neck viciously. “Get off me,” you say through gritted teeth. “Don’t force me to hurt you.”

“You’ve already hurt me,” I spit back. “I have nothing to lose! Go on! Hit me! Hit me more! It doesn’t matter, Kim, because you’ve made me numb.”

With a low rumble in your throat, you try to pry my hands off your shoulders. You bring your legs up to try to throw me off you. I grab your hands and pin your arms down above your head. I wrap my legs around yours, trapping you. The room is filled with our pants and groans.

“I didn’t plan to hurt you,” you breathe. “You hurt yourself.”

“You didn’t plan to hurt me,” I agree. “But you can stop the pain any time you want. And you aren’t planning to.”

“Leave now,” you whisper, your face turned to the side.

“What?” I can barely utter the word.

“It’s over, Lynn.”

“Liar.” I defiantly kiss your mouth. I whisper an “I love you” in your ear, and bite its earlobe. You are at war with yourself. On one side, you have your pride, your self-sufficiency, your reserve. On the other side, your passion, your sensitivity, and your love. You hate feeling weak, and yet I know that this is precisely the way I make you feel. And you despise yourself for it.

I kiss you again and again. You bite my lip in an effort to stop me, but you know you can’t. I feel your body relax under the weight of my kisses. You are losing your resolve. I kiss your cheeks softly, and let my hands roam in your short blonde hair. My lips find their way down to the hollow of your neck and run over your collarbone.

I kiss your shoulder slowly and luxuriously...once, twice, thrice. You let out a low whimper, your feelings now palpable. Your hands have stopped battling me, and your legs have surrendered, exhausted by the pleasure streaking through them. You put your hands on my shoulder blades as I work my mouth over your chest, my arms caressing your hips.

I take each small breast into my mouth, kissing, licking, stroking. Taking you over the edge the way I know you want me to.

“Why did you fall in love with me?” you say, your voice choked with pleasure. “What have I even done to deserve that?”

I lift my head up from your breasts. Your self-loathing makes me want to shake you till you come to your senses.

“I fell in love with a woman who had, beneath the veneer of her coldness, a sunny smile and a good heart. And a passion burning inside her like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” I run a finger over your belly, drawing circles on it. The musky scent of your arousal is filling the air around us.

“I...can’t...love...you...Lynn.” Your words are interposed between your moans. “I’m still fighting.”

“Stop fighting!” I hiss. “Life, the world, yourself, me! Everyone is not out to get you!”

“My self-reliance is all I have.”

“Your self-reliance is a façade. You are brave for the world, and terrified for yourself. Don’t pretend you don’t need anyone.”

It is as if these words awaken a wild horse inside you. You grab me by the waist in an attempt to throw me off again, but I am too fast for you, trapping your arms down beside you, and rubbing my body against yours till you are ready to scream with desire.

You gasp for air, and I slow down. “I don’t want to become dependent on you,” you say. “I don’t want you answering the door for me, helping me take walks, describing the sunshine and the grass and the fireworks. I don’t want you thinking you can babysit me.” I rest my hands on the insides of your thighs, massaging softly.

“I don’t want to take away your independence, Kim,” I whisper. “I just want to love you.”

I wait. You are thinking. Your brows furrow in concentration. Sweat shines over your forehead. Your stubbornness returns to your face. For a second, I think I’ve lost. I can feel you drifting away, far out of my reach. You will be my destruction.

But the very next instant, you give up. Your hands fly to my face as you feel every inch of my features, tracing the contours of my eyes, nose, lips, cheeks and ears. Your arms finally go around my back in sweet submission.

I rest my hand on your wet pussy, your body undulating beneath me. You raise your hips to thrust yourself against my hand, and your moans fill my ears, growing noisier. I force my fingers in and out of your wet core, the palm of my hand constantly rubbing against your swollen and red clit. No matter what you try to think about, you feel my steady thrusting, feel the pressure inside, feel your growing need.

Your fingers tighten their grip over the flesh on my hips. Your mouth widens, your eyes close. Not a single sound escapes your lips as you climax, shudder after shudder making your wonderful body tremble in ecstasy.

“I *do* love you, Lynn,” you say quietly. “I always did.” And as my arms go around you, you break down into tears.

You didn’t fool me for a second.

I murmur that I love you and that I will not hurt you. I wipe away your tears and kiss your mouth. But the more I kiss you, the more you cry. “Shhhh,” I say in your ear, over and over again. “I’m here by your side.”

You quiet down and hold me close, strangely vulnerable. My beautiful warrior queen. Let me fight some of your fight with you. I plant tender, loving kisses all over your face and neck. Kisses that spell out all my promises. This time I will keep my word. Porcelain. I won’t break you. I swear it.