I’ve had relationships of little importance, something to distract myself, something that would help me avoid obsessing over him all the time, which was not healthy for me. He’s made me cry alone in my room on many a night.
I take a deep breath, ready to make my move, knowing that I risk hurting myself, again. Because until yesterday, this was just a dream for me. One of those impossible Don Quixote-type dreams. It consumed my days and my nights knowing that I couldn’t convert it into reality. Now, instead, here I am and it’s quickly becoming real and scary. If I jump over this obstacle with both feet, there will be no turning back for me.
Because this is my dream come true.
Aaron, the boy I’ve loved since I was thirteen years old, is here. And he’s here for me.
I run my nails over his back, scratching his contracted muscles under my fingers. Aaron lets out a moan that echoes in the silence of the room and that provokes a heat that flashes through my body.
I hold myself to him and I can feel his erection against my waist.
“Tell me,” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck, pulling my hair to the side with his hand. “I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you say that you want me, now.”
Oh God, does he really need to hear it?
“I… I want you,” I whisper, hardy audibly, overcome as I am with emotion that is closing up my throat.
“No, that won’t do,” he says, making fun of me. His voice vibrates on my skin.
He slides a hand under the towel and caresses my side, sliding down to my bottom and squeezing against my warm skin.
I think I’m going to pass out in a few seconds.
“I want you… every part of you,” I tell him, lifting my head to look at him.
“God… Ciara!” He quivers, resting his forehead against mine.
“Tell me again, please.”
His confidence wavers a second and I feel him shaking under my fingers. This man is fragile and vulnerable.
Despite the fact that he’s dedicated his life to others, despite the fact that he’s always been there for everyone else, he is a man alone and he’s insecure about his own needs. He needs me. He needs me to take control now and he needs me to take care of him, of his body, his mind and his soul.
Of all of him.
“I want every part of you. Show me who you are, Aaron. Allow me to look into your heart and to take care of it.”
And with timid eyes Aaron draws his mouth to mine. I feel his fear of letting go on his lips, I taste his torment and I let it inside me and get mixed up with my desire to protect him and keep him safe from the storm and grant him a haven where he feels safe, secure and loved.
He wraps me in his arms and lifts me up before setting me down in the middle of his bed. He takes a moment to look at me, passing his hands through my hair.
“Come here,” I say.
“Tell me that I’m making a mistake, that I shouldn’t…”
I pull myself up and give him my hand. “Aaron… Come to me now. I just want to love you.”
His eyes are full of emotion and transmit all of the tenderness of his soul and his heart which are both, perhaps, lost at this moment or covered by a fog. But I’m here to uncover them and to show them to the world.
To show them to him.
He accepts my hand and kneels down on the bed, then he pulls me towards him, making me sit on his lap.
“Tomorrow we’re going to regret this.”
“We’ll think about it tomorrow.”
“Promise me you won’t Ciara, because I couldn’t stand it.”
