Hate Is An Evil Type Of Love

5. Feeling

"Mmh, you like that huh? You need me now huh? I bet you can't wait until I have my big, fucking dick inside of you now, huh?" He whispers dirtily against my skin.
"F-fuck! Harder p-lease!" I beg.
He stops pumping, making me whine, "N-no! Don't stop!"

He smirks an evil smirk, and pressing his thumb to the tip, saying, "You can't have anything until you call me daddy."
"D-daddy, fuck me please! P-please dad-dy!" I yell, pleading, bucking my hips toward him.
He laughs, "You better keep that pretty little cum inside. Don't you dare make a mess all over daddy!"

He whispers, threateningly, and starts pumping again, harder this time.
I yell out, followed by a string of moaning and whining.
"P-Peter-oh fuck, I'm so close! I'm gonna cum!" I yell, twisting and keened.
"Mmh, cum for me baby." Peter whispers huskily into my ear.

I yell out one more time before I can feel the warm slick messing the sheets, and Peter's hand.
I lay back, panting heavily for a few minutes as the reality of what just happened hit me.
"Oh, fuck." I whimper, covering my face. I'm trying so hard not to let the sadness overcome me, but it feels impossible to fight off the depression.

"Huh, you liked that didn't you?" Peter dirtily whispers, not fully understanding the meaning of what I just said.
I turn my head away from his gaze, which is hot and heavy, and try to hide the tears that escape from my eyes. I blink a couple times and close my eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?" Peter asks anxiously.
His contempt face replaced with a worried expression.
"No, it's just...nobody has ever wanted to...do that...with me. And...I-I guess it just made me sad because..." I tried explaining my reactions to him, but struggled to find the right words.

"Because...you didn't want me to be your first time?" Peter guesses, pulling back a bit from the kneeling position he had over top of me. "No. Because...I never thought I would g-get to." I say, trying desperately to keep the sobbing in.
Peter gives me this look, I can't tell if it's pity, sorrow, or...love.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Peter suggests, pulling me out of the bed with him. I sigh, wipe the tears from my eyes, and let him guide me into the bathroom.
"D'you want me to stay, or let you do it yourself?" He asks once we're there.
I shake my head, "No, I'm good. Could you just grab my clothes for me?"

"Sure."
He walks out, leaving me to clean up the mess I made all over myself.
Once I think I've cleaned up all of it, I dry my hands, and start to walk out. Before I do though, I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, and I wonder why he hadn't said anything about them.

I run my fingers lightly over the cuts and scars littering my body, questioning myself.
Does he really care? Peter walks back, his bare feet clapping against the bathroom tile.
"Here, I've got some-what are you doing?" He asks, seeing what I'm doing.
"N-nothing," I stutter, "just looking."

I avoid eye contact as I take my clothes and start pulling my boxers on again.
Peter looks at me, taking my chin into his fingers lightly, "Hey, look at me."
I do.
"You're amazing, just the way you are. No amount of scars will ever change what I think about you. But from now on, the only person who can hurt you is me. And I promise, I will never hurt you. Ok?"

I'm sobbing when I nod, smiling at the same time.
He caressed my face with his warm, soft hands. "For now, I think we should take things slow. I'm not saying having sex with you is a bad idea, I'm just suggesting maybe we should focus on you for now. Y'know? On who we are as an individual, and as a couple."
I nod, understanding.

"Ok. I'm gonna let you get dressed now." He walks out of the bathroom again, shutting the door behind him this time.
I throw on the rest of my clothes, ignoring the urge to grab the razor sitting on the bathroom counter.
I let out a heavy sigh as I enter the bedroom, plopping down next to him on the floor.

"What're you doing?" I ask, noticing the small notebook he seems to be all caught up in at the moment.
"Sometimes, I like to draw portraits of people. Most of the ones I do are just sketches of people I'm close with, like my mum or my father. So, I'm doing one of you."
He answers, shrugging a bit at the end.

"It better not be something smutty." I sigh as I lay down and put my head in his lap. He scoffs, "Ha! You wish!" I laugh lightly, playing with the strings on my hoodie.
"So," I start to say after a couple minutes of silence, "does focusing on myself mean we can't kiss anymore?" I blush a bit when he stops drawing to look at me.

"That depends."
"On?"
"Whether you can control yourself, Mr. Horny Ass."
I snort at his stupid remark, and smirk as I say, "Hey! I'm still your Mr. Horny Ass!"
He chuckles, leaning over to kiss me lightly on the lips.
"Focusing on you means I'm not going to burden you with feelings that are too strong, like sex, because I don't want to overwhelm you. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

He pulls away from my face to finish the sketch. I grumble when he turns his attention anywhere than on me.
I sit up, starting to look for my phone.
"Where the hell is my phone?!" I yell in frustration after several minutes of unsuccessful searching Peter's entire room, and turning the bathroom upside down.

"Back pocket." Peter simply says. I feel for it, and sure enough, there it is.
"Fuck you." I say, realizing he knew where it was this whole time.
"You wish," he says back.
I snort, "Says the person who's been staring at my ass this whole time. I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who want to fuck the other."

"I can't help it, you've got a sexy ass. Well, everything about you is sexy, but-" Peter stupidly smirks, but I cut him off by throwing a pillow at him and laughing.
"You're just jealous that I'm the one who's always gonna be on top. Therefore, I'm the only one looking at anything while we're having hardcore, full on cosplay se-"

Cut off by another pillow.
"Asshole." I say, flipping him off.
"Yup, bet you wish you had that finger up in it too." He says offhandedly.
Peter you goddamn fucking son of a-
"When the fuck do you give up bro?" I say, honestly a bit surprised at how many dirty remarks he's made.

"I don't ever give up 'bro', but I wonder how much it takes to break you? Wait, oh, forgot. Not much." I fake gasp, pretending to be hurt from his words.
He starts laughing, the beautiful sound of it making me blush.
He notices, "What, like what you see?"

I giggle, "Alright man, I get it. I'm awesome, you're awesome, but we're even better together."
"AND...we're even better when I'm inside of-" That little sentence earned him a slap on the arm.