.::Bottom Evan Smutshots::.

Short Drabble Pt. 2

Didn't think it'd get much attention, tbh.

Have this as apologies for my absence in writing.

This is the end of this little... Thing.

Yeah..

†:..:†:..:†:..:†

Half a year later and you'd think I'd stop having nightmares about it.

Half a year later and you'd think I'd get over it.

Forget about his smile.

Forget about his eyes.

Forget about the way he touched me and the way it'd set my skin on fire.

How could I forget?

The way he worked me open with patience and care.

The way he rocked into me and made my English a mixture of unknown dialects to us both.

I'd never forget that.

Though he seems to have forgotten.

He invited the guys and I to his home before the winter holidays, finally brave enough to show himself.

I've already seen his perfection.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't remember every specific detail about him.

So now, as we're piling out of cars and knocking on a white door, I can't help but feel my body shake with anxiety.

Has he missed me?

The door opens and my eyes land on a beautiful woman and a small girl. They smile wide and greet us, I can't keep my bitterness down as I refuse to shake her hand, coming up with the excuse that my fingers hurt.

She's kind and gentle, the girl is bubbly and free.

He has a family.

He greets us all, hug after hug until it's just me left.

Our eyes meet and I feel tears build up. He hesitates but brings me into his arms. I can feel those words bubbling to the surface.

I love you.

But I hold them back.

We part and carry on with the festive mood, playing late into the night until everyone disperses either to their hotels or one of his guest rooms.

His wife escorts me to the room farthest from theirs.

She's won and she knows it.

The night is quiet and dark, like every night back home.

Until I hear a door open and light footsteps heading towards the restroom across from my room.

Who could it be?

I wonder as I try to listen to the weight of the footsteps, not realizing they stopped at my door.

My door creaks open and I can see the dark figure of the man that brought darkness to my life.

Please.

I beg as he climbs the bed and straddles my body.

Oh God.

I can feel the fire in my gut rekindled.

He's moving between my legs so good.

I'm moaning and begging for release as he chases his own edge.

I let him use me over and over that night.

I let him spill inside me time after time.

My name like a mantra falling from his lips as his hips buck wildly against mine.

I'm exhausted but I open my legs wider as he rocks his length deeper inside me.

I'm his.

I whisper this to him and he seems pleased.

He makes me repeat it, makes me cry it into the pillow.

I'm his.

And like the night full of passion we once shared, we reach our high with each other's names spilling from our tongues.

I love you.

I'm stunned to hear it from him.

This is wrong.

And like he did to me, left me hurt and confused, I should've done to him.

But I didn't.

Because I belong to him.

Because I love him.

Fin