Bent Bacwards

Ch 7 It Was Always Going to End Badly

As uncomfortable as it was, that conversation with Liza, does buy me some time. Time, I put to good use. I see Oliver every chance that I get and between us, we don't let a second go to waste. Still, I'm feeling antsy. It's been a while since he's fucked me. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he seems to be avoiding it.

It's driving me crazy. Absolutely wild.

He's on his way over and as I hear his feet on the stairs, I take a leaf out of his playbook. I quickly pull my top off and head to the door, to meet him, in nothing but my jeans.

He raises his eyebrows as I open the door.

"Aren't you cold?" he asks, looking a little amused and something else.

I shrug, "I guess, I'm hot blooded, or something."

"I think, 'or something' just about covers it." He smiles. It's his slow smile, the one that takes over his face gradually, starting in his eyes, working its way down until one corner of his mouth curls up slightly. It's his sinful smile.

My belly flutters.

Yes, please.

He reaches down and pulls my fly open without any preamble. I press my groin forward slightly. I don't need to. I can see by the look in his eyes that he knows how hard I am. I push my jeans down quickly, my underwear too. I stand naked before him. Letting him look. His eyes are like the ocean, stormy and blue, crashing in and then slowly retreating. I can't help it. I like it when he looks at me like this. I like it a lot.

He walks around me, stopping when he's right behind me. He puts his arm around my chest, pulling me towards him tightly, containing me, kissing the base of my neck, making me arch back against him involuntarily.

Oh, God, I want him.

He kisses my neck again. I'm putty in his hands. Hot molten lava. I look back at him to see what I'm dealing with. His lids are lowered, he's scraping his teeth across his bottom lip.

Uh, oh.

"Show me what you're good for." He says darkly.

His words go through me, twisting me. Shocking me a little, but that doesn't mean, I don't quickly comply. One thing is for sure, he has a terrible, terrible power over me.

I take a few steps forward, to the bookshelf. I place both hands on a shelf, spreading my legs, bending my knees slightly, before arching my back. A few short months ago, I honestly would not have believed, I'd be able to conceive of doing something like this.

I hear him draw a long breath.

'Mmmh." He says, as he cups my ass, kneading me, warming me. Truth be told, I was a little cold before, but I'm not anymore.

He kneels behind me, spreading me open, kissing my ass, before really, really kissing my ass. He renders me breathless, with staggering haste.

"Ollie," I say, reaching back, running my fingers through his hair, "I don't want to wait."

He looks up at me, his arousal abundantly clear. I have to be careful now. Experience has taught me, when he's like this, it doesn't take much to tip him over the edge, to unleash the beast. Today, that's not what I want. Today I don't want to struggle and above all, I don't want to wait.

"Please," I say softly, "I don't want to wait, okay?"

He's still looking up at me. Instead of hardening, his eyes soften. He gives me that look, that intense, strange look, as he nods ever so slightly.

Thank God. I don't want to struggle today. I can't fight it today.

He stands behind me, quickly working his way in. I moan from the quick pain of it, that quick little sting, that I love. That I crave. He fucks me fast, until I don't think I can take anymore. Then, he fucks me slowly. For some reason, today, the pleasure's so intense, that slow, is even harder to take.

I moan, then he does. I moan, then he does. Over and over.

"Aaah" he moans with the next thrust, "Ahhloveyou."

Wait.

What did he just say?

I'm still trying to decipher his words.

Is that what I heard?

When my body reacts without my consent. I twist round and reach back, my mouth open, as I search for his tongue.

He comes instantly and though I'm quite shaken, I follow suit not long after.

*

It was probably just the heat of the moment,

I tell myself later. It was a very hot moment. I try desperately not to over-think it. This thing between us, has always been a hook-up situation. I know it's crazy intense and I don't know how to explain this thing between us, but I've been very careful never to offer him more. I'm committed to Liza. Liza and I are on-track for marriage. We've always been.

Surely, he knows that. Doesn't he?

When he says it again, a week or two later, I can't deny it. I didn't see this coming. I didn't expect him to feel this way. I feel shocked and afraid when I think about it. I'm afraid for him and I'm afraid for Liza. I'm afraid that no matter what I do now, I'm going to hurt someone.

I don't need Common Sense to tell me,

I'm headed for trouble.

Liza corners me again, at roughly the same time.

"We need to talk." She says.

This time, she sits me down firmly and there's no getting away from it, we are

going

to talk. Her lease is up in three months. She's worked up a little project plan, and she talks me through it, step by step. Over the course of this quick conversation, I find myself thoroughly educated and very well informed, as to what the next few decades of my life, are going to look like.

I don't mean to make it sound like a nightmare. Of course not. This is what we both want. What we both wanted, right from the start. It's just that right now, my life is a little more complicated, than I ever imagined it being. A lot more, actually.

You have to tell him,

says The Dreamer,

you have to talk to him

, as I lie in bed hours later, my eyes open wide, in the black of the night.

I try to ignore the tension in my chest, and even more than that, I try to ignore the feeling, that as I lie there, it feels as if the walls all around me, are slowly closing in.

*

The trials of the night are forgotten, the second I open the door and see him the next day. He's been for a haircut and he has that fresh, crisp look about him. I run my hand up the back of his neck, feeling the velvety prickles of his newly shaved hair. I reach down with my other hand, feeling the weight, the length and the girth of him. The walls aren't closing in now. Far from it. Now, all my concerns give way, to something that falls neatly under the banner of lust.

He slaps my hand away, playfully.

"You gonna be like that, huh?" I growl.

God, I like it when he puts up a fight.

I pull him towards me, kissing him hard. Opening his mouth roughly with my tongue. Claiming him. That seems to subdue him a little, so I undress him slowly. I can't take my eyes off him, as he stands there, naked. I can't look away, and even if I could, I don't think I'd want to. He gives me a little push and a lascivious grin, as he breaks from my grip and goes running down the hall, to my room.

A wild, crazy laugh comes bubbling out of me with such force, it reminds me of the carefree way I used to laugh as a boy. So hard, my face would contort and my belly would ache. I chase him down the hall, running full speed, only to catch him as he throws himself on the bed. I swing my arm back and land a hard slap on his ass, just as he launches himself into the air.

"Ow! Fuck." He cries, looking back at me with shock and indignance, reaching back and rubbing the cheek, I've just blistered.

Oh, God, he's cute.

"Aw," I tease, "want me to kiss it better?"

"Stop it." He says, wriggling and trying to get away.

I hold him down and liberally rub and kiss his pink cheek. By now, he should know, his struggling does it for me.

"Stop it." He says again, but his voice is different this time. We both know it.

"Hmm," I say thoughtfully, as I roll him onto his side, "want me to kiss anything else."

There's a quick flash in his eye, as he assesses me, rolling his eyes as he says, "Fine, just kiss my dick."

"Uh, uh," I smile, "You've gotta ask nicely." Though, right then, I confess, my voice doesn't sound awfully nice.

"You know what," he says, grabbing me roughly and forcing my face on his dick, "maybe you won't talk quite so much, if you have all that in your mouth."

Laughter peels out of me like it did before, as I fill my mouth to the brim. I suck him and lick him, enjoying the feeling so much, it takes me a second to notice he's leant forward and has attached himself to me, too.

When I come up for air, I roll over onto my back, rolling a condom on. I'm so horny I can hardly think straight. The sight of him lying there, looking at me, his mouth open and soft, is going to unman me.

"Sit on it." I say.

I see that quick moment of hesitation. He looks a little unsure. He hardly ever goes on top, but today, I want him to take it. I want to watch him moving on me. I want him to want it, too.

My God, I want that so much.

He squats down over me, feet planted on the mattress on either side of me, as he slowly and carefully lowers himself down. Right from the start, I'm so excited, I feel like I could blow. I'm clenching and breathing, to try to slow myself down. It's not helping. I should be closing my eyes, because the way that he's moving is completely insane. No way anyone could see something like that, and not lose it.

I take his dick in both hands, circling him fully, making him moan, as he moves over me. Like me, he seems to be suffering. Struggling not to let go. He has his hands on my chest and his eyes on mine. Neither of us can look away. He's whimpering now, clamping a hand over his mouth, trying desperately to keep something in.

Don't say it, Baby,

I tell him with my eyes.

Please, don't say it. It hurts you to say it.

It hurts me to hear it, too.

When he says it, it feels like he's found the end of the thread that's keeping me knitted together. It feels like he's tugging on it, pulling me apart. Making me unravel.

Please, I can't take it.

I'm relieved when we cum, and I don't mean just from the epic release. I look at the ceiling, and then cast my eyes round the room. In daylight, the walls are all exactly where they should be.

But that doesn't mean, they aren't closing in.

*

"Can you hang for a while?" I ask.

His cheek creases a little, as he smiles and takes a seat next to me on the sofa.

Maybe he'll understand

, says The Dreamer, again.

I take a deep breath, "So, er, Liza's getting pretty serious about moving in."

He looks at me sharply.

"She's turning twenty-eight soon, and she wants to live together for a while before we get engaged. S-she wants to be married by thirty."

"Hmm?" He says, though I can see he's not breathing.

"She wants to have two kids," I add, quickly, not giving myself time to back out, nervously babbling, "did you know that a woman's fertility greatly decreases after thirty-five?"

He looks as if he's been slapped. I've stopped talking now and he lets the silence settle for a moment, before saying softly, "Is that what you want?"

My heart lurches. Something inside it threatens to escape. I shove it down quickly. For some reason, I'm incredibly touched by his question.

"Yeah," I say quickly, before I lose my nerve. Though, I do lose a little memento when I look into his eyes, as I add, "sure, I mean, I guess."

"Ethan!" He hisses, "Don't you think this is one of those pivotal moments that really require certainty?"

Oh, shit.

"What's your problem?"

"My problem," he says, quite loudly, "is that I'd like to know where the fuck that leaves me?"

Uh, oh.

"I'd like to know what this thing between us is," he adds furiously, "and I'd like to know how you feel about it?"

Shit.

I'm in deep water here. I'm on the back foot. Panic rises up quickly, the walls are no longer just closing in, right now, they're crashing in.

"I can't take this," I cry, leaping to my feet, "I can't spend all day dealing with all her dumb shit, only to get home and have to deal with all your dumb shit, too."

He looks at me in disbelief. He doesn't look away. His eyes are asking more questions than he did with his words. For once, I can't hold eye contact, so I look down quickly.

"Aw," I say, trying to smile. I'm floundering here. I have to do something to lighten the mood. "Shut the fuck up."

I try to reach for him, but he stiffens and moves back.

"Come on," I say, "don't be such a little bitch."

He stands and walks to the counter, picking up his keys and his wallet quickly. Right now, he looks different. Right now, he doesn't look like someone I know.

"Don't call me again."

What?

"I mean it," he adds, his voice pure ice, "lose my number."

"Oliver!" I exclaim, "What the fuck?"

He looks at me pointedly, raising his eyebrows and opening one hand. His unanswered questions weigh heavy all around us. I open my mouth to speak, but I can't. I just can't. So, I look down and let him go.

He walks to the door, but as he gets to the hall, he pauses, going still for a moment.

"Just for the record, Ethan," he says, taking a long, deep breath, "I know you love me."

And with that, he opens the door and walks out. The door clicks shut, with a sense of finality, that makes my heart drop.

Don't let him go!

The Dreamer is screaming.

Go after him.

Stop him right now!

It's done.

Says Common Sense, firmly.

It's done now. It was always going to end badly. It's over. For God's sake, don't make it worse.

I like how he smells,

says My Dick, very unhelpfully.

My mind quietens at last, but I'm reeling from shock. The last words he spoke are ringing in my ears. Over and over.

I know you love me.

Something dark and unpleasant has wound its way around my chest. I'm struggling to get a good breath and I feel like a can't swallow. I go to the sink, splash my face quickly and pour myself a long glass of water. I sip it slowly, willing my tongue, which now feels swollen and thick, to work as it should.

I know you love me.

A ghastly feeling rises up, so deep and intense, I cannot name it. Squeezing me tightly, crushing my insides. I look down and see my hand clenched around the glass so hard my fingers are white. Deathly white. My hand has started shaking from the force. I'm shaking from the force. The strength of this feeling consumes me, as I swing my arm back and hurl the glass against the wall, with every ounce of my strength.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" I scream.

The glass smashes into the wall. Shattering. Sending fine, glittery shards all around the room. Instantly, breaking into a million, tiny, little pieces.

A million little pieces, or more.

*