Odd Couple 8

By xxxevilgrinxxx | Published: November 25, 2008

Gone.
You’re gone. Was I dreaming? Did I just go too far? I can still smell your hair, your skin. Curtains are closed, shutting out the light. We left them open last night. The shower. You’re still here. I try not to be relieved.

I stand at the door, listening to you for a while. You don’t seem startled to see me when you get out. You’ve left the lights off, even here. For me, I guess.

Small pattern of bite marks on your breast, handprint on your hip, where I hurt you. I’ve hurt lots of people before, I don’t know why those marks make me feel like such an asshole, but they do.

I watch your eyes drop, as you look at where you hurt me. I watch you struggle with it, you’re not accustomed to caring about whether you’ve hurt someone or not.

I hold out my hand to you, and step back into the shower. You seem unsure, and I can hear an unspoken apology. I don’t want you to apologize, not for this.

The water’s hot, I don’t think you even notice. Your hand holds my jaw gently, as you fight with yourself. There is a terrible vulnerability in you, one you’d hate to know was so visible. An apology from you would bare it, and you would build a wall within yourself to keep from baring it again.

I kiss you before you can say anything. Sometimes, to be a woman is to see that vulnerability, and to never let on that you’ve seen it. A man’s heart is a pure and fragile thing, rarely let out, guarded by walls built everywhere else. All I can offer you is submission. Not a weakness, but a gift. I will be still and quiet, and allow you to get control over your emotions before they overwhelm you.

You kiss me back, harder, your hands avoiding where you’ve bruised me. I run my hands over your chest, and feel you stiffen into my belly. A slow stroke. Entry is slick, and gentle, made easier by your holding my thigh. There is no rush.

It’s a nice way to keep me from apologizing. I swear I will never hurt you again.

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