"Please, come."
I look at the clock; it’s 9:03, and I’m curious how fast he will show up.
He arrives at 9:23.
Wow, hehasto live nearby.
I watch through the window, but I don’t see him use the main entrance, so he probably jumped the fence in the back near the apartment complex.
I’m not in the mood to ask him how close he had to be to get here so quickly, but the thought slips through my mind that maybe he’s been renting an apartment on that neighboring estate, and if that’s true, it explains a lot. It makes sense, he could come to campus every day, he could be here whenever I need him…
When he enters and closes the door behind him, I’m standing about ten feet in front of him in the middle of the living room.
Silence.
His dark mask turned toward me, motionless.
I lift my hand and make a slow, inviting gesture, then I walk upstairs.
I don’t want to stay fully dressed during heat, so I let the robe fall to the floor.
The man follows me in, and now he’s looking at me, or at least I assume he is, which feels strange in a way because why doesn’t he want to show me his face at this point?
But I don’t dwell on it, now isn’t the time.
I climb onto the bed and take the presenting pose, the one omegas use in heat, my ass high in the air, my hole on full display, open, waiting for him.
He stands there for a moment, and I hear his heartbeat speed up.
He’s wearing a black sweater this time, and military-style pants, the balaclava on his head and the mask over it, and he must be burning under all of that.
"Okay, so I’m good to go, ready whenever you are…" I murmur.
As I lie there with my ass raised, a sudden, bleak realization hits me. I have to somehow face the internal goodbye to Bay. The world is forcing it on me. Could hisghosthelp me? And yet I know I am not ready for that, so why shouldn’t I let myself slip into role-play right now?
Someone might say this is self-torture, tormenting myself with the impossibility of our situation, but I simply cannot live with the thought of giving myself to someone else. It has to be him. It has to be Bay.
With a sharp movement, I roll onto my back.
Now I am staring up at the stalker standing right beside the bed, his hand resting on his crotch. He was clearly getting ready to start, but I changed my mind.
"Lie down on me," I whisper, breathless. "Just like you are. Just lie on me."
There is a moment of silence. The dark mask turns toward me. I reach out and switch off the bedside lamp. The only light now comes from the hallway, leaving the room submerged in shadows.
"Please, lie on me," I repeat. "Just lie down on my body with your weight."
Standing there in the half-light, he looks even more mysterious, like a figure born from dusk itself. Indeed, just a ghost. Slowly, he places one knee on the bed. I feel the mattress dip under his weight. Damn, he must weigh a ton and then some. Next to him, I am nothing but a feather. Massive muscles carry their own gravity.
His hands come down on either side of my shoulders, and for a moment he hovers over me on all fours, staring down through the mask.
Then he lowers himself, slowly, until his chest presses into mine, pushing the air from my lungs just a little. The sensation is good. The weight, the mild breathlessness, the solid hardness of his body pinning me down. I want more. I need more. His head settles near my right ear. I tilt my face, and my lips brush against the rough fabric of his balaclava.
"Say you’re him," I whisper. "It doesn’t matter if you are or not. Just say, ‘It’s me, Bay. I came back to you.’"
For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, right by my ear, I hear a very quiet, rasping whisper.
"It’s me. Bay. I came back to you."
