Your My Dream (BoyxBoy)

Your My Dream (BoyxBoy) 26

*Jessie's POV*

"Okay" he agrees softly. Yet no talking comes looming out of the silence. He just studies my face with sorry puppy-dog eye's the color of emeralds. I looked down, hiding behind my eyelashes, trying to disarm his loaded gaze. But when I look up he's still staring with soft compassion written all over his face.

"I... umm" the words catch in my throat. "If you have something to say, say it"

"I'm sorry" he whispers, his tenderness suffocating me, trying to choke me with softness until he gains forgiveness. That's what it feels like at least. But do I dare forgive him?

"Jessie..." he takes my hands before I can retaliate, inching closer to his goal. He strokes the left one softly with his thumb. "I know I was an ass. I know and I'm really, really sorry. I know that it's a lot to ask, but can you forgive me? Please? I don't want us to end this way"

Proving my clearly un-hetero sexuality tears brim in my eye's. Damn it!!!!! I bite my tongue to keep any embarrassing and betraying emotional sounds from escaping. Tristan notices, because I'm just that lucky. He give's me the please-don't-cry look, and realises my hands so he can swipe the stray tear that had escaped from my eye. I flinch from his touch.

The flinching was an accident, really. I couldn't help it, I felt as if I'd been caught in a moment of weakness, and showing him I needed support would give him a weapon. My chest ached though, because the look in his eye was so sad, so heartbroken.

"What can I do? What on earth could I possible do to take it back?" he pleads. There's barely even a pause.

"Kiss me" my eye's widen at my own words. But somehow I know that this is what I want, a kiss. That's what the ache in my chest is throbbing for with each heart beat, silently begging me to touch my lips to his own and somehow make this all better.

He hesitates to comply. "Please?" I feel all air draining from my lungs as my body prepares itself for crying. Let me tell you, I'm not a pretty crier. No diamond tears and sparkly tears stains across smooth uncoloured cheeks. Nope, I wail, and my face goes red and puffy well I try to suppress the hiccups.

But before I can start any of that ugly business, Tristan capture's my face, this time with no resistance, and tilts it back just a little. The kiss is very giving. Very wanting. Very warm and very moving. This feels like a different kind of kiss then the one's we've shared before.

The utter passion absorbed in it has me gasping in breath after mere minutes. Or has it been longer? I'm really not sure anymore because my mind is a fuzzy blanket. Somewhere, in the always random, always day-dreaming part of my mind, I think about how I used to find it stupid and annoying when couples resolved fights with long lingery make-out sessions. I know better now.

My fingers start tugging at Tristan's shirt. He seems to understand what I want before I even catch on to where my completely insane hormone's are leading me. Off come's his shirt, and considering my eye's are squeezed shut, I let my hands do the marvelling.

I doubt I would have noticed that my shirt was ripped off as well, except it broke the kiss for a few seconds, leaving me panting with exhilaration. Tristan didn't immediately pull me back into that feels-so-right kiss, making my eye's pout up at him. He ignored me and contently admired my chest.

I shivered when he ran I hand down my torso slowly, the cold of the air around us complimenting the heat of his touch perfectly. With sudden possessiveness his hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to him, kissing the newly exposed flesh.

Jaw line, neck, collar bone, chest. His lips enticed every particle of me. Some people say kissing your soul mate is relaxing. Then Tristan is certainly not my soul mate because kissing and being kissed by him has my adrenaline and hormone's stirring, greedily leaning into his every touch.

Warm breath carries down my chest. My hands are clenched in Tristan's hair, holding him tightly to me. The fight? Forgotten, forgiven. Non-existent. Other people, other world. Not important when kisses like burning ice, like cooling fire are trailing all over once again.

His hands are on my pant line. They pause there, looks into my eye's for permission. I gently place my hands over his own and guide them into pulling my jeans off. Boxers. Wearing only boxers has me feeling exposed, so to avoid embarrassment, I unbutton his pants, a clear message.

He raises his eyebrows at me, smiling broadly. "Just evening the score" I explain. My voice shakes a little. To much excitement, to much uncertainty, to scare of where I'm sure this might lead. I'm young. A measly sixteen. But my body's pressuring me, demanding things it's never demanded before.

Without a shirt or pants Tristan looks gorgeous. Grey boxers forming a tent I'm to scared to even peek at, because the size in my perplexed vision frightens me enough. My breathing become's irregular, raspy. I try to slow my hammering heart with next to no luck.

Suddenly, Tristan chuckles, pulls away from the flesh his lips had been all over. Pulls away from my grasping arms to, that protest and try to tighten on him. He releases himself with ease, sit's a little away from me on the bed.

Somehow I'm both furious and relieved.

"It's okay Jessie" he murmurs. "Your not ready"

I frown. Think. Bit my lip.

"Your right" I admit.

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So alot of fans are going to hate me, attack me, and eat my face for being a tease :P

oh well :) Give me a comment.