Tattooed On You

XXVIV: And The Winner Is...

Putting one foot in front of the other while I will myself to not turn around, I slump down the stairs. I feel worse than I do when we lose a game or when something at work doesn't go the way I want it to go.

What the fuck am I feeling?

It bloody stings. It burns even, right in my chest. It feels like the worse cramp I've ever had, and it's actually making it hard for me to properly breathe.

In desperate need of a cold shower, I take the last few steps of the stairs two at a time. My eyes are fucking burning, and I only realize now that there is a layer of cold sweat running over my back. It feels like I'm having a fever.

Walking into my room, I forcefully shut the door while I try to focus on keeping my breathing steady. I'm panting, and I don't know if it's because just ten minutes ago, I was having the orgasm of my life, or because of the insane conversation, I had afterward.

My cock was still out and about for Christ's sake.

I told her. I've told her everything I swore to never tell anyone. I suck at words and there are probably hundred better ways to say it, but I think I just told her I love her in my own, fucked way.

But it didn't do anything for her. She hardly reacted and immediately pulled up that wall. And I get it. She's been hurt before and I'm by no means the one that she is looking for, let alone I deserve, but I can't deny that this, the way she just kicked me out again, hurts.

I feel like I'm gonna explode; I feel hurt, anger, and aggression running through my veins. She is right; since I've known her, I've been having the urge to punch people and things way more than before her. I was always easily angry and I admit I've felt aggression before too, but not like this. Not in a way that fucking owns me.

But I feel more. She makes me feel so much more than any other bird ever has. With her, I feel everything, even things that I didn't know existed. Sometimes I look at her, and I just want to pull her in my arms and press her against me so hard, she's gasping for air, just because she's so fucking pretty.

When we kiss, all I can think of is how I can stretch it as long as possible. While I should be enjoying her lips on mine, all I think about is how I can kiss her next time. Longer. Harder. Better.

And when we fuck... Jesus Christ. I've fucked plenty, and besides a few lost birds, it was always decent. But with Jo, it's insane. Every time she lets me inside, I can't breathe. When she let's me inside, my heart beats so fast, I feel it in my enitre body. The only reason I'm not dead on the floor is that she's keeping me alive. In those moments, she owns me, and I've never been owned by anyone.

She makes me feel alive, in every aspect. And knowing there is so much more to discover, is reason enough for me to believe the confessions I did to her wholeheartedly.

She's my somebody.

I can't deny it any longer and looking back on the boy that foolishly swore off love forever because his examples in life showed him the worst side that love brings out in us, I can only shake my head.

He didn't know shit.

Which brings me back to what happened just now. She kicked me out, and though I saw emotion, my words didn't seem to get through her hard as fuck shell. She doesn't want me. She almost begged me to stop telling her what I feel for her. I feel fucking defeated.

And it's possibly the worst one of all the new things she's making me feel. I've never been on my knees for anyone, and no one has ever had the power to make me feel as low as I feel now. I'm lost, but I have lost as well.