I wasn’t used to this. I was wearing far too many clothes, piled in a heap on top of him.
Him.
My face once again crushed against his skull. His hand reaching up, turning into a fist in my hair.
Lips on my skin as I slid off him, letting my head land heavily on the pillow, my hand still jerking him off. That cock of his. Hard and hot in my hand. The things I wanted to do to it. To him. Make him pant and moan and beg.
“Please,” he whimpered. A desperate whine as my eyes flew open so I could watch him unravel.
That nose on him scrunched up, his eyes squeezed shut. Lips parted just so as his neck bent back, his whole body lifting off the bed as I drew that first gasp out of him.
Me. My hand. All his little secrets.
His breaths were far too fast when they finally resumed, those little jerks I was still teasing out of his body.
Mine. All mine. Every last little drop landing on his stomach. On my fingers. In the palm of my hand.
I stared at it all in wonder. Soaked up every last little gasp. Then I wrapped him up in my arms, tighter than perhaps necessary, but I let him ride it all out with me. The two of us like this.
I’d probably ruined this suit, the only one I owned. The thought made me chuckle because I would still wear it tomorrow, carrying what he’d left me with proudly. I didn’t care. Because he was here, and he was with me, and everything was just simple when he was.
“You’re everything,” he whispered.
“I’m just me.” I kissed back into his hair.
“You let me be me, and you never make it weird. Never. Ever.”
“Because I love you,” I offered up. A small piece of honesty in an overwhelming amount of truths.
“That’s all I want.” His voice was barely there. And then he pressed a kiss on my mouth. Wiped the wetness from my eyes.
Everything was too much. Too overwhelming.
He took over the control, like he understood. Gently undressed me without any words. Let me close my eyes as he tugged off my socks and wrapped me in the duvet. Tugged at the bottom sheet so I could get comfortable. Kissed the top of my head and left me to rest.
I wanted to beg for him to stay. To be there for me in the morning. Sleep claimed me before I could, and that, in itself, was a minor miracle.
The alarm woke me up when the sky was still dark; my muffled thoughts needed a good amount of time to get a grasp on reality. Find the light on the bedside table and unplug the phone from the charger. He must have done it last night. Set the alarm and everything. Tidied up too, by the looks of it.
All my clothes were gone off the floor. Every stupid sock. I looked around in a panic, wondering how…what? I needed clothes! I got up and tugged at my messy hair, only to spot the shirts hanging up by the door. Shaken out and smoothed down. My suit hanging behind. One folded pair of briefs on the floor next to my shoes. Two socks gently laid out on top.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to shout. Instead I sank to my knees, letting my head fall into my stupid hands.
Only he would do something like this. Look after me the way he did. Care enough to notice.
“Fuck you,” I whispered. And then I couldn’t stop smiling.
Chapter 13
Peter
Another week went by, in a blur of production people talking right through me, making me wear things I had no choice in and once again placing me at a table with plated food that we were told not to touch. Today was the second luncheon party, where we were supposed to sit around and look like we were enjoying ourselves, dressed up to the nines for no reason…apart from showing off the sponsored rags we were all forced to wear.
The dry food on the plate didn’t look that good to be honest, worse than last week’s offerings, and I was sitting here like an idiot, with Anne on my left and someone called Caspar on my right, one of the new people I assumed. The people living here seemed to be as interchangeable as our sponsored clothing, and I had completely lost track. All I was managing to do was to put one foot in front of the other. Breathe. Smile.
Oliver was further up on the other side of the table, and I struggled to see him from where I was placed, behind some elaborate table decorationdesigned to house extra cameras and microphones whilst looking like it wasn’t at all out of place.
We’d not…mentioned it again. The cuddling. Instead I tried to be more tactile with him. Just squeezing his arm on occasion. Giving him more reassurance. A little bit of affection. I told myself he needed it. That it was important to have some physical touch, especially in an environment as stressful as this.
