How to Survive Your 19th Life [BL]

Chapter 38: Double Take

"I love you," I said, looking at Emiel's hazel, mascara-smudged eyes. I said those words automatically, without even knowing that I was saying them. My eyes darted around. Snow and darkness. It was somehow snowing and nighttime. But it couldn't have been... It was just day. I was in the stacks with Emiel.

I shivered. Emiel was in a suit. He wasn't wearing one a moment ago. I looked down at myself. I was too. I remembered these suits, the last time we wore them. We wore them at the dance, when I confessed.

"Do you really?" Emiel said back. That was familiar too.

I blinked at him. "What? What's going on?"

He furrowed his brow. "Is something wrong?"

"Why are we out here?" I said, looking at the dark library. It loomed in front of me, empty and desolate. In fact, no one else was around out here either. "What time is it?" The last thing I remember was Emiel's hands on me... and me falling.

No, no, this isn't right, I thought. I shook my head.

Emiel grabbed my arms and steadied me. "Let's go to my place and talk okay? I think you might be tired."

I leaned into him. He smelled so good. No way he would ever hurt me. Where am I? What's going on?

In a daze, I followed Emiel back to his studio. He held my hand the entire way and even provided little warnings for icy spots so I wouldn't slip. Emiel wouldn't hurt me. That must have been a dream.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the date. February 14th. Impossible.

"What day is it?" I asked him as we entered his building.

Emiel peered at me. "Valentine's Day, Sol."

"V-Valentine's..." My voice trailed off.

I sent a text to Malai.

Me: What happened today? What happened yesterday?

She didn't respond. It was pretty late after all. If today really was the Sweetheart Dance, she would likely be with Tariq still, or asleep. I almost sent a text to Henri, but decided to wait until I was alone. Why? What's wrong with texting Henri? He's just a friend. But it felt weird. My memories weren't lining up with reality.

Once inside Emiel's studio apartment, I dumped myself on the couch and checked my phone again. February 14th still. Emiel sat on the adjacent couch, looking at me with a type of worry I'd never seen on him before.

"What's going on Sol?" he asked.

I should ask you that, I thought. Instead, I said, "I am tired. I feel like I am caught in a dream or something."

That's it. Maybe this was all a dream. Or maybe... I was waking up from one? Either way, something wasn't quite right. Emiel reached over and grabbed my hand. His hands were large, like mine, firm and warm. I met his gaze. He was so concerned for me.

Of course he was. He always was. Emiel wouldn't hurt me. Whatever world I just came from must have been a dream, I decided. Yes, Emiel would never hurt me. He is incapable of it. This was reality – it had to be. I must have spaced out right before I confessed to him and dreamed up this whole other storyline of us.

Without another thought, I threw myself at him. I knelt before Emiel between his knees, my hands on his waist and back. I kissed him with raw passion, my lips drawing out a sweet moan from his lips. I trailed my mouth along his soft vulnerable throat and down to his sharp collarbone. My hands tore his dress shirt open, revealing his hard muscled chest, where I pressed deep kisses in a trail that led to his hardened nipples.

Emiel wouldn't hurt me. He loves me.

My mouth found his muscled but soft belly, heaving with his breaths. It did not take me long to undo his pants and tear them down to his ankles. His cock sprung free, already seeping and hard.

"You love me," I whispered, barely aware of what I was saying at this point. My mind flashed with the memory of him in the stacks, watching me as I fell. No no no, that didn't happen. It couldn't have.

I slid my tongue over the hot salty tip of his cock. My eyes rolled back. Arousal burned in me like a wild beast. Wrapping my lips around the head, I suckled Emiel like his body was filled with the elixir of life. He drew in a sharp breath and grabbed the seat cushions of the couch with tight fists.

"I do," he cried, panting. "I love you Solomon."

I swallowed him whole. Emiel filled my mouth and throat with his ocean of hard meat, so sensitive and slick between my teeth. His sex pummeled into my skull, choking me until a mixture of slob and tears soaked his hips and balls. I grabbed his thighs, forcing him in deeper until I was sure his cock could alter my voice. I didn't let up, not when he grabbed the back of my head to pull me off, nor when his panting became a wheeze.

"Inside you," Emiel said, his eyes clenched shut. "Please let me cum inside you. I can barely hold it in."

I pulled his cock out of my mouth with a sloppy wet squelch. I stood up and looked down at Emiel on the couch, doing his best not to erupt before he wanted to. Removing my pants, I then straddled Emiel on the couch. His cock was so soaked from my blowjob that it didn't take much for him to slide inside of me. It hurt. Just like the first time. No, this is the first time, I told myself. Remember, everything else was a dream.

I lowered myself onto him, letting him enter my body one intoxicating inch at a time. Emiel wrapped one hand around my throbbing cock. With the same rhythm, he stroked me as I began to ride him. Up and down – in and out. I grabbed Emiel's face with both hands, tilting it up so that I could kiss him tenderly.

Even when I increased my rhythm, riding him harder and faster, my lips remained slack and soft. I poured myself into him this way, thrusting and bouncing until we both reached the precipice of a thunderous orgasm, and plummeted into its depths.