What Doesn't Kill You

Chapter 7

What the fuck? I sat up quickly. The hope was that being upright would give me the perspective I needed to fully take in the situation. I pulled him down to sit beside me. Trying to decipher the look on his face and still getting nothing. Perhaps I had imagined it.

"Relax, it's not such a big deal."

But it was. I needed to figure out exactly how big of a deal it was. Instead of waiting for him to give me some hint; some sign, I leaned forward and kissed him. Not the quick peck he'd placed on my mouth before he left. I lingered just long enough that he had to respond. He turned his face to just the right angle so our mouths came together in a perfect seal.

I pulled away, breathless. He followed until he realized I was too far. I wanted to see him properly. I needed to confirm that this wasn't a dream. But when I closed my eyes and opened them again, he was still there.

"Black?"

I never got to say anything else. His mouth was on mine, the gentle brush of his lips leaving behind a tingling sensation that set fire to my brain and my loins. I moaned into his mouth. He took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss.

I pushed him back until I was on top of him, pinning him with the weight of my body. His hands ran up and down my sides. Sliding under the hem of my shirt to find skin. I wanted to feel him too. His t-shirt bunched up under his armpits until I got him to let go long enough to let me pull it off his body.

I moved over him. Wanting more of his touch, wanting more of my body on his body. Wanting to explore everything with him. I felt myself lose control. But I didn't want to stop. I kissed him—hard. But he responded like it was exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

He grabbed my shoulders and, with strength I didn't know he possessed, flipped me over so he was looking down at me. I could see the desire in his eyes. But it was restrained. He was holding himself back. Why? That wasn't what I wanted.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You said you didn't want this the last time." He pursed his lips. There was doubt etched on his face. I wasn't sure I had ever seen that much expression from him before.

"I lied," I answered simply.

I pulled his head down to me and kissed him again. I felt his shoulders relax as he kissed me back.

"I want you. All of you," I whispered into his hair, my hands running across his back. I was desperate to have every part of him in my arms. I wasn't sure I would survive another moment without him.

He pressed a kiss onto my temple.

"You already have me," he whispered back.

Those words were like a key to a lock. I could no longer contain the desire that threatened to consume me. The fire spread through me so fast, I no longer had any control over the depths of my need for Black.

As if possessed by the same desire, Black's touch became more fervent. His kisses were more desperate. I answered in kind. I felt myself drown in him, and I never again wanted to come up for air.

I would happily die in his arms; never by his hands.

But I wanted to feel more than just his hands. I wanted to feel him.

The struggle to get our clothes off was an unwelcome necessity. The touch of heated skin against heated skin burned pleasurably. Both of us moaned. Neither of us was self-conscious of the scars on our bodies. They were evidence of our fights and our foolishness.

"I never thought it would come to this—that you and I would be here together like this," Black whispered and his words wove themselves around my heart and squeezed.

"Neither did I. I can't even tell you when it first crossed my mind. Maybe it was because White was so easy with his affection."

"Do not bring my brother into this," He reprimanded, pinning my arms to the couch so I couldn't move when he bore down on me. "I am not White."

"No, you're not," I responded casually, "And that's why it had to be you."

"Todd..."

I didn't want to know which angry words he would hurl at me so I lifted myself up, despite his hold, and kissed him.

"Don't say anything. I already know I'm a fool for doing this. For wanting to make love to you."

"You think that's what's happening?" He asked with a derisive laugh.

"That you're making love to me? " The emphasis on the hold he had on my arms kept me in place. Then, to prove his point, he let go of one of my arms and rubbed his hand over my hard cock. " I have you. I will have you."

"You think I'll allow it?" I asked, unwilling to let the matter go.

He was too cocky, too full of himself for me to just capitulate.

"Why not? I thought this is what you wanted," he said

"I thought it was what you wanted," I countered.

He laughed but there was nothing funny about the situation. We had both made assumptions and both of us were wrong. I wanted him but I would never...

Except, what I would or wouldn't do no longer fit me—no longer fit us. We were colouring outside the lines. Making our own rules and discovering all sorts of new things about ourselves—and each other. How much did it matter who got to take who?

He was right. I wanted him and I would have him. If that meant doing something I had never done before...it was probably the best-case scenario for us. We'd already broken so much by doing what we always did.

We needed to build something new.