A Midnight Blunder #3
My brain didn’t give me a moment’s rest all night long, instead choosing to spiral from what happened. I contemplated everything from trying to gaslight Marcus into believing he’d imagined it to fleeing the country, changing my name, and becoming a monk.
But the rational me knows there’s no way around facing what happened.
So, with weary, bloodshot eyes, I try my best to put on a facade that says I, in no way, care about what happened last night.
I tell myself to just face it head-on, then I peek out of my room and tiptoe all the way downstairs, hoping he’s already left for the day. So much for facing it head-on.
I let out a breath of relief when he’s nowhere in sight, but it’s not even fully expelled before a low ‘sleep well?’ rumbles in my ear.
The yelp of surprise that leaves my lips at the suddenness of his appearance is probably the most unflattering sound I’ve ever made in my life.
I turn and level him with a glare, the jump scare amping up my fight mode just enough to stare him down and hang on to whatever remaining dignity I have left.
It’s slight at best, but just enough to hold my head up high.
“Just fine, thank you,” I airily sniff out, but the smug-ass grin on Marcus’s face doesn’t waver a millimeter; if anything, it grows even wider.
His eyes take me in, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, slowly, purposely, with more intent than even my imagination could have captured last night at its peak.
He’s not even touching me, and yet I can feel him more now than I could last night when I’d had my hand around my dick and my fingers submerged in my ass with his name on my lips.
“You know I’ve been trying so hard, Qiang, to behave. I know last night was an accident, but it finally told me that what I hoped wasn’t one-sided, isn’t. I can’t unknow it now, and I don’t think I can shut my feelings off anymore,” he breathes out as his eyes continue to strip me bare.
I don’t need him to fill in the gaps of what he left unsaid.
I know if I told him to stop, he would, but after last night, I don’t know if I can.
I’m not ready to embrace him, but I also don’t think I can send him away anymore, and he knows that now.
Last night was a blunder through and through, but there’s no way to pretend how desperately I called out his name.
There’s no pretending it’s one-sided anymore.
“Marcus–” But he must know, or have heard the censure in my tone, to know I’m not gonna make it easy, that I can’t make it easy.
His fingers coil just beneath my chin, tipping my head up as he steps so far into my space that our noses are just a hairbreadth apart. His breath puffs against my mouth, and his beautiful, deep eyes are locked so intensely on mine that he steals my ability to breathe, let alone speak.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to push you, but I’m not giving up on this anymore, either.
I want to hear you moan my name like you did last night with my cock buried in your ass.
Or yours buried in mine. I don’t really give a fuck about logistics, pretty, as long as it’s you and me, flesh to flesh, with my name on your lips, and no phone static between us. ”
I can’t think. I can barely function, and I lift my hands to push him away, but instead of succeeding, I just end up with my palms flat against his chest, feeling those muscles that spiked my arousal to its breaking point last night.
The heavy thu-thump of my heart beats erratically as his heart beats just as wildly beneath my hands.
Instead of telling him to back off, “I’ve never said you couldn’t have that,” comes out of my mouth in a tone caught between censure and a breathless whine.
“You didn’t, but I left out the part where I want your mouth on mine, your heart in my hands, and mine in yours.
I don’t just want to fuck you, I want you to be mine and mine alone, and I want to be yours and yours alone.
A hook-up isn’t enough to put this fire out, pretty,” he says with a smile, reaching his hand up and lightly caressing my face until his thumb reaches my bottom lip.
He presses in, just the slightest pressure there as though to physically imprint his spoken desires.
His eyes shimmer, and his usual lightheartedness replaces the intense staredown. He laughs lightly before stepping out of my space with a wide smile.
“Now have a good day, and I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” he says, his voice almost back to normal, before grabbing his bag off the counter and strolling out of the house as though any part of what just happened was normal on any level.
A heavy breath punches out of me as a weight I didn’t realize was there is slowly lifted. I sink gracelessly against the kitchen counter until I’m on my butt and taking deep breaths to calm back down. With each passing breath, the reality of the situation comes into clearer focus.
He’s not going to back down, and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want him to. A part of me that wants him to win. A part of me that terrifies the part of my brain that knows better, and that ugly part in the deep recesses of my mind slithers with discontent at knowing Marcus is winning.