Behind Closed Doors ✔️

28

“It’s getting out of hand.” He tells me, facing the window in his room. “It was never supposed to go this far. I thought that… I thought that I’d hate it. Being with a guy.” He admits, moreso to himself. 

“But you don’t, Antony. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” I tell him, blinking repeatedly to keep the tears at bay. I could feel them pushing on my barriers, but I didn’t falter. “There’s nothing wrong with us, okay? We’re not doing anything wrong.” 

“Of course you’d fucking say that, when your life isn’t in fucking danger.” He spat, finally turning around to face me. His eyes are blazing and red and they scare me a little. “My dad will fucking kill me if he finds out. And he won’t… because this is over.” Antony swallows, and it’s like a knife being thrusted into my chest. Being twisted and pulled back out before plunging back into my flesh. My breath shook as I tried to understand him. Tried to understand what he was going through and how I could help him. 

“Antony.” I say his name quietly, and he presses his lips together, his hands turning into fists by his side. “You’re pretending to be someone you’re not, and that will hurt you more than any confession.” I tell him, but he only blinks at me. I step towards him, reaching out for him. He shakes his head, but I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. His eyes waver a little, and I notice the pool of tears sitting on his tear ducts. He blinks them away. 

I rub my thumb across his cheek, and his eyes slowly flutter to a close. “I understand, okay?” I tell him, pressing my forehead gently against his. “I know what it’s like to hide. I’m being forced to hide who I am, as well. You’re the only person I can be myself around.” I tell him softly, and I feel his fingers wrap around my wrists, pulling me closer. “Don’t start pushing me away, now, Antony. Please.” I begged, and then I felt his lips desperately cling to mine, and it’s like the wound that knife left slowly healed itself, patching me up with every touch of Antony’s skin on mine. 

I cup the back of his head, running my fingers through his hair and Antony is cupping my cheek, running his palm across my skin. “Fuck.” He murmurs against my lips, and he kisses me harder and deeper. I stumble back until I’m falling onto his bed. Antony is crawling on top of me, his fingers on my jaw as he lifts my head. I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut, digging my fingers into his shoulders. 

He kisses me like it’s a lifeline. Like it’s oxygen. Like it’s the only way he can breathe properly. It was so uplifting and breathed life back into my lungs after they were punctured. Antony’s body crushed me, but I welcomed it. I consumed it and loved it. 

Then, he pulled my coat off of my body and threw it onto the floor, his hands were under my ragged shirt, exploring my skin. The coldness of the tip of his fingers sent shivers through my body and I clung tighter to him. One of his knees was between my legs, and I dragged my hand down his back as Antony stared down at me, his lips parted slightly. 

“Fuck you, Moore.” He breathes, and I grin before smashing my lips against his once more. Antony groans into the kiss, lifting his hand to the top of his shirt and pulling it off. My fingers run over the muscle and the abs and the tan skin and the light scatters of hair running up his arms and the pecs and his back and I don’t think I can ever have enough. 

His lips are suddenly on my neck and I stare up at the ceiling, my mouth wide as I try to conceal the moan that desperately wants to escape. I bite onto my knuckle just as Antony lifts the bottom of my shirt and kisses down my stomach. One of his hands is on my thigh and he squeezes slightly, my body vibrating with pleasure. 

Then, we crossed that line once more, and it was a line I crossed with great pleasure.