Take Me

Chapter Two

A.N. Welcome to the second chapter! I'm officially announcing that Asa Butterfield is being cast as our lovely lead, Tom! I think he just squeezes into the role so perfectly, but let me know what you think, okay? Vote and comment, I love reading your comments, and I'll hopefully see you next time. Xoxo, Clay.   

♔ Chapter Two ♔

I knew the shit that I should have been feeling, after what I'd done. I should feel like a whore, like the worst little slut in the world for betraying my best friend like that. For having a rough quickie with her childhood sweetheart. But I didn't give a shit about it, about Hebe. I didn't care that it would hurt her, I only cared that it felt good. It felt so good. In all honesty, Isaac fucking me was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time.

I felt good. He made me feel good. And I'd decided that I wasn't about to start feeling crappy about that. I knew it would never happen again, I knew that we wouldn't ever speak of it again, but it felt good to have that one memory where I actually felt amazing, where I didn't feel alone or empty or like the whole world was working against me. It was the one moment in my whole life that made me feel like I could actually be loved.

If it wasn't already blatantly obvious, I liked guys. I'd liked guys for what seemed like all of my life. And all of that time, it had been a secret I'd been clinging to and never wanted to let go. No one needed to know that about me, it was something about myself that I hated and I wanted to keep locked up.

But in that bathroom, I didn't feel that way. I didn't feel ashamed. Well, not until he left me there alone, trousers at my ankles, looking like a used, bruised and abused rent-boy.

But I knew what it was as soon as he pulled down my trousers. This was a quick, meaningless fuck. It meant nothing to him, and it should have meant nothing to me, because gays do that kind of stuff all the time, right? They fuck and then they ditch and then the next day the cycle can start over again. That was the lifestyle.

And I knew what I was getting into when I muttered those two words to him. As soon as I'd asked him to take me, I knew I'd no longer be a virgin. And while that did frighten me at the time, the major thought running through my mind was how else am I going to get a chance like this?

He was a nice guy. No, he was gorgeous. And he was fine with fucking me. Maybe he even enjoyed fucking me. I wasn't going to let that go to waste. I never thought I'd get an opportunity like that again, because I knew I wasn't the best looking kid on the block, and I'd never been especially lovable to begin with. So I got lost in the moment, and I didn't regret a fucking thing.

I'd never acted on my feelings before. It felt liberating. Kissing him back felt right. All of these years I'd known, but I'd kept it bottled up, never wanting to act on what I was feeling. But when he made the first move, I couldn't just say no, not when it was him, not when it was Isaac Attenborough.

But that wasn't the only reason I asked him to take me. I was sick of my life. Sick of doing the same thing day in, day out. Going to school, going home, and then going back to school the next day. I was sick of being the same person, of looking in the mirror and seeing such a boring kid staring back at me. I wanted to lose my virginity, I wanted to become something that I'd never be. So I'd said those two words, and just like that, he'd ripped down my trousers and he'd plucked away my cherry like a blood red rose in spring. And just like that, I'd convinced myself that I became interesting, that my life now had some kind of spice in it, that I'd be okay.

And I didn't regret it one bit. He may not have treated me like a precious porcelain doll, but that wasn't what I wanted anyway. I didn't realise until I felt the horrible, stinging pain, but I liked it just the way he gave it to me. I liked it rough. I liked how he'd staggered me so I was facing the wall, how he'd split my legs apart, and how he just took me. He didn't need to give me any kind of warning. He knew what he was doing. And I wanted it. I needed it.