Sin Dressed as an Angel

You See Yourself in Me

Once separated, Sarawat had closed the door with a sinking feeling in his gut — a feeling that had quickly turned to a deep and aching pain. As soon as he slid the lock across, he leaned back heavily against the door, eyes falling closed as he swallowed hard. A shaky hand lifted to rub over his abdomen and he felt the muscles twitching and contorting there, below the expanse of his skin.

He had to scurry Tine away. He had to. He couldn't risk having Tine see him in this state.

The sweet image and taste of Tine was quickly whisked away by the night — a night spent pressed in a tight ball against cool, white tiles with Sarawat's head hanging low over the toilet bowl. By the time dawn crept through his room with its low, milky light, he was spent.

Medication had come with breakfast. They gave him just enough of a reprieve from the cold sweats, shaking, and nausea that he could sleep. But even then, his dreams had been nothing but depraved images of Tine and all the things that could never be.

And, through the night, Tine had burned alone in his room as well, entirely consumed by his yearning for Sarawat.

Tine fought against himself and against the urge to text, call, or even show up at the other boy's door, begging once again to be allowed inside the room. Tine had sprawled himself out over the sheets of his bed with the shades drawn and the light of the moon cutting a silver cast through the cracks in them, his hands wandering the lengths of his body. Eyes shut and giving small, silent huffs of heated breaths, Tine's imagination had replaced his own hands with Sarawat's.

It still hadn't been enough.

The next day, Tine had left his room to eat and sit alone in the warmth of the courtyard. Others occupied the space as well, though not so many as usual due to it being the weekend. They all either talked amongst themselves, or lounged with a book on their lap.

Peaceful.

Almost.

Not so quite, for Tine.

He'd hoped that he would see Sarawat, but Tine had caught no sight of the other boy.

It had taken everything in Tine's power to go directly back to his own room after visiting the courtyard.

He knows that it's all a battle of willpower. He knows that he'd checked himself into this place to, so that he could win this battle out against himself. Giving into his need and sleeping with Sarawat would mean yet another failure on Tine's end, that much he knows, but the desire in his belly that continues to grow is one that's almost impossible to ignore.

Which is why, once the sun had set and quiet had begun to settle over the building, Tine had found himself slipping out into the hallway, sneaking to the door of Sarawat's room and giving it a light knock. It's a rapping that's low enough so as to not draw any unwanted attention, while being just determined enough to grab the only attention that matters.

And yes, Tine had made the very conscious decision not to text the other boy before showing up. He'd wanted to keep the element of surprise on his side, despite how predictable he knows this must be anyway.

"Sarawat, let me in," Tine hisses quietly, mouth nearly pressed to the crack of the door, anticipation and excitement for seeing the other again humming hot under his skin.

Inside, Sarawat wakes, if only slowly, with fingers clawing at the bed sheets and a groan tumbling off his lips. He reaches for his phone to check the time, before quickly placing it back down again. He supposes this must be some kind of record for Tine — resisting the lure of a quick fuck for, what? Twenty-four full hours?