It's Not Too Late

"You're perfect for me, Jesse. So you can't give me everything I want in bed. So what? I'm not going to fall in love with someone else and leave you like she did."

He pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Well. I wouldn't have."

Cold spread through my chest.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I'm done with you losing your temper like a fucking child. Twice you've hit me now. And fuck knows, I've wanted to smack you often enough, but I don't, do I? And then you go and attack Luce." He shrugged. "Can't do it."

"I was fucked up, and she was kissing him. You know what it's like—"

Will met my gaze and shook his head. "No, no. Not interested."

"Will, come on, you know I'd never have hurt her if I was sober!"

"That's not really relevant though, is it? Because you weren't sober. You got fucked up, something I specifically asked you not to do tonight. Just for one night."

He waited for me to speak again, but I had nothing. Prickling eyes, a deep sense of shame, but no words that'd help.

He shifted his stance wider and folded his arms. "Is that it? Because it's been a fucking long night and I want to get some sleep."

"Here?" Hopeful.

"No." He looked at me as if I was insane. "At home, in my fucking bed."

The lift I'd got from him being there turned into the first stumble towards somewhere darker. I wondered if there was anything left in the house that'd take the edge off this sick feeling in my stomach. Probably not. He'd gotten rid of it all weeks ago, which was why I'd bought the first shit offered to me at the club.

He turned for the door.

"No, wait! Please." I felt a sob in my chest, even though I wasn't crying. "You can't just leave me like this. Not after everything."

He spun back to me. "That's rich. 'Leave you'. There's fuck all left to leave, Jess, you keep yourself medicated."

"Not fair," I said, choking the words out on breath that wouldn't come. "You did this to me."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to jam the pain back inside myself, and heard him sigh. I opened my eyes and he'd moved closer.

His lips parted, his jaw moving as he eased the tension from it.

"Jess, you're out of control. I've done my best to stick with you. But when you get violent? When you start trying to hurt yourself? I won't go there with you."

"But I didn't mean—"

He shook his head in frustration.

"You don't learn. I throw you a rope to climb up and you hang yourself. I know when I'm doing damage. You get fucked up so you can pretend you're something you're not, and you want me to just ignore it. Do you know how much it hurts me to watch you denyeverything you feel for me? How important it is for you to pretend this means nothing?"

"I didn't—"

"I'd doneeverythingI can to make this easy for you. To give you what I know you want. What you need. But you're like a fucking sponge. You soak it all up and you just want more. You never take responsibility for anything."

My chest was heaving now, silent sobs inside me.

"I don't know what to—"

"You should have broken up with Lucy the day I fucked you. You... Jesus, Jesse, you fucked me like a fucking desperate cock slut, and you went back to yourgirlfriend and pretending it meant nothing."

"I thought you just wanted sex—"

He was in my face now. "What the fuck does it take to convince you someone cares about you?"

"Someone?"

"Me, Jesse, fuck, yes, me. I care about you. But I can't do this!"

He turned his back and his shoulders heaved.

I swallowed hard. "So we're done."

"We're done," said Will, and the words hit me like a fist to the gut, left a high ringing in my ears. He took in a deep breath. "Right. I'm gone. Take care of yourself."

No, no, no, I couldn't do this, I couldn't be alone in this house, not after that.

"Please don't," I said desperately, as he reached for the doorknob. "At least stay until it's light."

Just help me survive the night.

Will shook his head.

"Two hours, tops. Please." I sounded pathetic, but I couldn't help it.

Will glanced towards the curtains, drawn against the darkness. His eyes flickered back to me.

"Just till dawn," I said. "Please. I can't fucking do this."

I pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it to the floor.

His eyes roved over me and I knew I must look a violent mess.

I took a hesitant step towards him and he leaned back, a warning in his eyes.

"Fuck's sake, Will, you've never turned me down before. Four years, remember?" My voice was loaded with sarcasm.

He let me put a hand behind his head and didn't resist as I put my mouth against his. After a moment, his lips parted and he kissed me back, and his hands fell against my bare waist, while mine fell to the waistband of his cargos.

I lost myself in that touch, desperate for it not to end. But all things end.

He pulled back, and I opened my eyes, half drunk with need.

"This really what you want?" Will asked. "Right now, this is what you want? Knowing it's over?"

"Yes." I pushed my hand against his tight belly and slid my hand inside his pants.

He put his hand over mine. "You know if I do this, it's just a fuck?"

I knew the end of everything when it stood in front of me; happy to fuck me, happy to leave me. Yeah, I knew it was just a fuck.

"I don't care."

I cared so much, it felt as if my ribs might crack from the pain in my chest. But I also wanted him to fuck me. To feel his heat against my back, to feel him inside me. To feel alive one last time before the black took over.

"Are you sober?" he asked.

I nodded, and he put a hand to my head and pulled me in for a kiss, his tongue fucking my mouth, while I stroked him hard.

He steered me back towards the bed with both hands. At the edge, he stripped off my pyjama pants, then unbuckled his belt while I moved back onto the bed.

I lay back as he crawled over me, still fully clothed, and held himself over me on all fours.

His mouth met mine and his kiss was rough, as if he still had me pushed against the wall in the lane and was fucking me instead of hitting me, all his anger in his mouth.

He cradled my head, his thumb moving against my scalp as his tongue moved against mine, and I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling the tautness of his muscle, sought out the dense smell of his jacket; stale cigarette smoke, cologne and a hint of sweat.

His jacket rustled as he pulled back, his pale blue eyes lit by a beam of orange street light that cut between the curtains.

With no expression in his eyes except a feral hunger, he moved down the bed and took my hardening cock into his mouth.

He held eye contact with me, his mouth on me wet and hot, pulling life and heat back into at least that one part of my anatomy. But it was short-lived, and he only sucked me long enough to get me fully erect, then shucked off his jacket and shirt, tossing them behind him on the floor, leaving his broad, muscled chest bare.

I tugged at his cargos and pulled them open.

He pulled his pants off, shedding the last of his clothes onto the floor, then put a hand behind my neck, bringing my head up off the bed while I reached for his cock.

"Roll over."

I'd hoped he'd face me this time, but I knew this mood. This was Will's angry-fuck mood. When I screwed with him, when I hurt him, I didn't get to watch him cum. That was his way of punishing me. He took his pleasure in me as if he resented that it gave me pleasure too.

I got onto my stomach and he reached for the lube that was always under my pillow. I glanced over my shoulder as he jacked his cock to hardness, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced my face against the bed, my hand pressed against my hard cock as it was crushed under me.

I pushed up to get a better grip on myself and he covered my body with his and pushed my left leg up with his own, so that he had access.

He let go of my hair and pushed my arse cheeks apart while he positioned himself against my entrance.

I watched him press in over my shoulder, drank in the last time I'd see him make that face, memorising it—his face twisted with pleasure almost close to pain, as if I was pushing a giant cock into him instead of the other way around.

He told me once as we'd lain in bed after some party we'd gone to, that fucking me made him forget himself, made him feel as if he was winning lotto and dying at the same time.

Sounded fucked up to me, but I'd been

fucked up

Yeah.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, his hands gripping my arse, as he watched himself slide into me.

Even with plenty of lube, I felt it as an ache, as if his anger was transferred into me via his throbbing prick. He was solid-hard, and I knew if he could, he'd fuck me without getting me off.

He fell forward, covering my body with his, and wrapped an arm around my chest, his solid forearm pressed hard against my ribs. His other hand went to my hair, pushing my face against the bed while he shoved into me.

I pushed back against him, rubbing my own cock into my palm, determined to take from him everything he took from me.

And anyway, Will couldn't deny me pleasure. He didn't know how. Just having him in me, possessing me, pushing his body into me as if he owned me, was pleasure enough. But his cock stroking over the centre of pleasure that lay inside me, building the intensity—he had no idea how skilled he was at hitting it just right, an instinctive slow build that brought me to an aching edge and held me there so that I could cum within seconds of feeling him tense against me, almost every time.

And if I did this...

I pushed up against his cock, fucking my whole body against his, knowing what it did to him.

He let out a guttural sound and his teeth grazed my shoulder. I groaned as I did my best to drive him deeper into me, rewarded with his tongue and teeth against me.

I rolled my shoulder back, pushing against his teeth, and he bit down harder. His anger was so easy to milk. Whatever self control he had, I'd learned to break it a long, long time ago.

His hand in my hair gripped a fistful hard enough to create a dark and welcome pain against his cock driving into me, that building pleasure that was pressure that was pleasure that was both, my own cock in my hand sticky and slick now with precum.

I was going to cum. I wanted him there with me.

He made a sound of primal hunger against me, his saliva wet against my shoulder, his teeth resting against my skin, and I shoved back against him, hard. Instinctively, his teeth dug into my shoulder and I fell over the edge.

Ah, fuck.

My cock spurted against my hand and I stroked it to completion while I shoved back against him, no coordination now, lost in my own cumming, my hair sweaty against my face as I arched up against his solid chest, my arse grinding against his groin.

His body jerked as he shoved hard into me and came, the pulsing surge of his cum flooding into me a distant pleasure, my body clutching around him, milking the last of it from him.

For a long moment he lay spent inside me, his body solid and fever-hot crushed against me.

"Fuck."

He pulled out of me and flopped onto his back beside me.

I lay where I was, my face pressed to the bedcovers, feeling emptied out emotionally and physically. Maybe now I could sleep.

Will gave a heavy sigh and shifted on the bed. He sat up and put a hand on my leg. I closed my eyes into the brief heat of his palm against my skin, and opened them again as he lifted his hand, with a sense of dread.

I stayed where I was as he cleaned himself up and got off the bed and then rolled onto my side as he started to pull his pants back on.

"You're going?"

"I told you it'd only be a fuck."

"You said you'd stay till dawn."

"No, I didn't."

I shifted my gaze to stare at nothing as I wiped cum off my hand onto the bedspread, and Will sighed.

"You thought you could fuck me back into your life."

I shook my head.

"Yeah, you did."

He hooked his thumbs into the waist of his cargos.

"You've always lied to yourself, Jess. Any time something scares you, you create a fantasy and crawl off into it. The world's a shitty place. Sometime you're going to have to face it."

I got off the bed and he watched me warily as I closed the gap to stand in front of him, the way he'd done to me earlier.

"Why does it have to be shitty?"

He shrugged. "That's how it is."

"So, what? Be miserable? Is that your advice to me? Because it seems like you dowhatever it takes to get what you want."

He chuckled, and it just made me angrier.

"You're talking about fucking you," he said. "You really think this is all because I fucked you?"

"Yeah, I'm talking about you fucking me. Because if you hadn't, I might still be with Luce, and I might not be standing here wishing you'd do it again while you're about to walk out of my life and leave me with... with fucking nothing."

My throat closed up and I couldn't say anything else.

Will's eyes darkened. He wasn't laughing now. I watched him go inside, watched him question himself. Watched him find an answer.

He looked down at the floor, his sandy hair matted with sweat, a light sheen of it glazed across his chest.

"I did what you wanted."

I shook my head. "How could you when I had no idea I wanted it? Be fucking honest, Will, you did whatyou wanted, and I let you do it because I'm in love w—"

I choked off and stood with my mouth open, struggling to breathe, black spots forming in front of my eyes.

Will guided me back to the bed and fetched a water bottle from the desk and handed it to me.

I took a sip, felt cold water run into my stomach.

He crouched in front of me.

"You've never said that before." His voice was neutral, but I knew he was accusing me of lying to him. Again.

"Yeah, well, you knew," I said, and my voice was harsh from not crying. "You've been my best mate for four years, I've told you I love you how many fucking times?"

He took the water from me and took a swig of it. Wiped his mouth.

"Never. Not like that. Neversober."

"Yeah, well, congrat-u-fucking-lations. I love you, you prick."

I closed my eyes and pushed my hands into my hair. The pressure behind my eyes was turning into a splitting headache.

"Just fuck off, Will. Go find someone else to fuck with."

He straightened up. "Is that what you think I've done?"

I shrugged. "I don't care anymore."

He stayed where he was, silent.

"You need help," he said eventually.

"No shit."

I glanced up at him and he licked dry lips. Took another swig of water.

"But you won't help yourself."

I shook my head. "If it's so fucking easy for you to deal with whatever comes your way, then you go live your fabulous life. I'm doing the best I can."

He rolled his eyes.

"Go," I said. "You're going to go, so just go."

He sat beside me on the bed and put an arm around me, pulling me roughly against him.

"Here's the thing." He glanced sideways at me. "Something has to change. You can't do what you did tonight ever again. Ever, again."

I said nothing, his fingers digging into my shoulder painfully.

"So what's going to change, Jess?"

I shrugged. "You know what? I'm all out of fucking ideas."

He shook me, and then let go of my shoulder. He stood and stretched.

"Okay. Get into bed. I'll be back in a sec."

I looked at him suspiciously.

"I'd tell you if I was leaving."

I realised I was cold and truly exhausted now, and crawled under the covers, pulling them around me. Half of me didn't expect him to come back, and the other half no longer cared.

But a few minutes later the door to the bedroom swept open again, and he softly closed it behind him. He stripped off his cargos and got into bed, pulling me back against him. His cock was damp, and I was guessing he'd cleaned himself off. As he pulled my hips against him, I felt a soft lob-on pushed against me.

I lay awake, without the energy to turn that semi into another fuck, but afraid to let my tentative grip on consciousness go, in case the next thing that happened was waking to an empty bed.

He spoke against my ear. "Sleep. I won't leave."

"Yeah, you will."

He crossed his arms around me and pressed himself harder against me, then kissed the place where he'd bitten me while he fucked me.

"Not until we've talked properly. Sleep."

I tried and failed, lying in his heat as the first pale of dawn lightened the crack between the curtains. But as the glow warmed to orange I finally slipped under, his breathing against my back, his body full of hunger for mine, my mind closing down in surrender.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

About this story

There're a lot of guts being spilled in this one. I know at this point it's more drama than sex, more painful to read than erotic, and if you got this far, thanks for coming on the journey.

As always, comments and feedback appreciated.

Jase.