Tommy
How is this my life?
If someone told me when this all started–when Kira and Lexie first recruited me–that I’d meet a fucking psycho guy that I would fall in love with and like, want to be around all the time and get spanked by, and look forward to his attention and all that shit? I’d probably punch someone in the face for saying all that. But it happened. It’s real.
I feel…bubbly happy. Like I could float away.
I’m warm and cozy in Young-gi’s bed, curled up in his arms, and I’m like, basking or some shit like that. It’s mental.
Last night on the roof? Like, fuck. That was intense. He said…I mean, he like, he said helovesme. That hemustlove me, that love is all this could be.
I’m fucking terrified. Ecstatic. Terrifyingly ecstatic?
Ecstatically terrified.
I bury my face in the pillow, squiggles in my stomach making me feel warm. His breathing behind me is even and slow. He’s still asleep, and I want to tease him about being too old to stay up late, but I’ll wait until he’s up. Right now, I’m just enjoying how goddamn peaceful this is.
The room is mostly dark but slowly lighting up from the sun peeking around the edges of Young-gi’s thick curtains. In the dimness, everything feels intimate and safe. I sigh, and its such a fucking happy sound that I canhearmy smile.
I’m such a fucking sap. But I can’t help it.
His arms tighten around me and his breathing changes as he wakes up. I stubbornly don’t look at him, but he rolls me over so he can see my face.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice so deep and gravelly and sexy that I think it might have just impregnated me. He nuzzles his lips against my neck, slides his big hands down my chest. “Did you sleep alright?”
“I…” I trail off, surprised. “Yeah, actually. I think I did.”
“Good.” His little smile is secretive and smug. I remember him petting me when we fell asleep. I think he was talking to me too but I was so tired–
“Wait, are you hypnotizing me or something?” I ask, sitting up. “Like, to sleep at night while you’re with me?”
He pulls me back down onto his chest. “So what if I am?”
I scowl, then just frown, then hum thoughtfully, then scowl again. “I don’t know, I feel like I should be pissed about that.”
“You can get bratty if you want to,” he says, sliding one hand down to cup my ass.
“Well it’s not as fun if I have permission,” I say, a tad breathless.
He lets out that huff of air that counts as his laugh, and I smile against his chest, squirming as his hands get a little bolder, a little more provocative. His dick starts to get hard under me and I know what happens next.
Anxiety slithers through my chest and I pull back. My dick is soft and I’m too awake for this, too–too real and too myself.
“Listen, I’ll–I’ll never be okay for casual, happy sex like this,” I say, backpedaling, until I’m sitting up beside him, holding my knees to my chest. I want him to know this, he needs to know this now. “I can’t–I don’t–maybe it’s fucked but I can’t just get it up, alright? That won’t ever be me. I’m not–”
“Tommy,” he interrupts me, my name sounding extra good in his morning voice. His dark eyes are intent and honest. “All I want is you.”
I blink, trying to figure him out. I mean technically I get the words; it was in English, so how come I don’t understand?
“All I want,” he repeats slowly, like even he isn’t sure how else to say it, “is you. All of you. The way you are. There isn’t any…there aren’t any wrong answers for how you feel. You don’t have to do or feel anything other than what’s already in there.”
I think about that for a while, examining his statement from multiple angles, trying to find out where the catch is.
“What if I feel like I’m a shitty person and I’m worthless?” I test him.
“Then you’ll get soap.”
“But you just said there aren’t wrong answers,” I scowl.
