Loving You, Loving Me 12b
_Loving you, loving me
_ Chapter 12 -- Part II
A special thank you to Sterling for his support in so many ways.
And now the second part to the story, something you've all been waiting for. I hope it'll be worth the wait.
What follows is a work of fiction. The story revolves around teenage gay males and includes sexual and other contents that may be offensive to some. If you think this might be the case, or if you are under the legal age in the area where you live, please do not read any further. Any resemblances to persons, names, or places are unintentional and mere coincidence. Please respect my efforts in writing this, and do not copy or reproduce any part of the story without my permission.
Happy reading!
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"I--I like you, yes." It was an honest answer, but somehow I felt the anxiety bugs gnawing my insides.
"What--what about really like me?" I almost choked when I heard the question. My shivering started again uncontrollably. It was a simple question. Five simple words, but they carried a heavy weight which I felt compress my chest and prevented me from breathing. My heart thumped and jumped.
"I--I--" I've never felt so petrified in my life. I was shivering, my shoulders twitching, my fingers trembling. It suddenly became very, very cold again. I wanted to answer, but there was only emptiness in my mind. Though my heart was full of a warm feeling of intensity. "I--I--"
"I'm sorry, Dave," he said sadly and looked down at his feet momentarily before looking up again, "I--I'm sorry to put you in the spotlight with these questions. But--but--but I--I--I really have strong feelings for you. I--I--" His eyes were sparkling, not from the natural blue lustre they carried, but from moisture that was swimming on the rims.
I gasped for fresh air. There seemed to be none, only the overpowering scent of Leo's perfume. My hand reached for my chest and pressed against it. My breath was shallow and weak, heaving and short. My neck muscles clenched, tensing together with my jaws and face. Butterflies flapped their wings wildly in my stomach, summoning a storm that spun around and around wreaking havoc through my mind and insides. It was so cold the corners of my eyes teared. Or...or was it something else?
"It's--it's just since we met and did all those things together," he continued, his head leaning in closer and closer, as the distance between our eyes, our lips narrowed more and more, "I've--I've not been able to get my mind off of you. Like you're someone I want to see everyday. And when I--I get to see you, I feel so--so happy. Like I--I've never felt before."
I felt extremely uncomfortable, but comforted at the same time. I felt scared, but calm, too. So many contradicting thoughts, so many mutual feelings. My mind rushed as the meaning of what Leo just said registered and repeated itself in my head, taking on significance gradually the way your eyes adjusted to the surroundings after being in the darkness too long. His penetrating eyes stared into mine. There was absolute sincerity in those beautiful eyes, pure innocence, intense emotions. Eyes that before spoke to me in a foreign language I could not understand. But at that moment I was beginning to understand. And my mind twisted around. I felt afraid. Very, very afraid. My body shivered violently.
"Why don't you say anything, Dave?" His eyes still fixed onto mine, shimmering. "I'm--I'm sorry if you weren't expecting to hear what I just said. But--but everything's been bottled inside for so long, I just had to get them out. I need to talk to you, I need to let you know, Dave." He was so close it was as if I could feel the warmth of his cheeks, his breath, his lips.
"I--I'm not sure yo--you should feel that way toward m--me."
"Why? What's wrong? You don't feel the same way? Please, Dave, tell me. I need to know." His voice was desperate, anxious, like my words had struck him and hurt him terribly, puncturing his hopes.
"No, Leo," I said and I chewed the inside of my lip, "Th--that's not it." The taste of blood shocked my tongue. I was so very scared and unsure of what I was feeling or thinking, let alone saying. "You can't like m--me that much. I--I'm not worth your caring." I sat with my back hunched, like a child who had just been scolded and felt terrible shame. My chin dug into my knees, while my hands, trembling, covered my mouth. The light feelings and happiness before had suddenly vanished into the air, like the white vapours that dissipated as soon as they appeared from our breaths and mouths. I was afraid, more than anything else. Afraid of myself.
"Oh, Dave. You really have no idea. You don't know how much you are worth, how much you mean to me." His hand reached over and grabbed mine, in an attempt to pry open the fingers that barricaded my mouth. The touch of his soft skin reminded me again how he was able to conjure so many strange emotions in me. Memories of our hug on stage flooded back, lingering feelings of those subtle brushes of our fingers came forward. The many laughs, the many smiles and precious silent glances rolled like a projector film, again and again. They fought and fought with the ugly thoughts, the shame and hatred of my very existence. A battle of love and hate raged violently in my head. So many opposing forces, of darkness and light, of misery and bliss, of pain and healing, all struggling to triumph in my mind, struggling to erase the shattered nightmares of the past, struggling to dominate and take control over the fate and life of a lost boy, lost in the world between childhood and adulthood.
But there was only one victim. Me. I trembled violently and started to sob. My soft, subdued wailing pierced the silence. My tears moistened the dry cold. My mind, my world shattering with every uncontrollable tremble of my body.
"Oh Dave, why are you crying?" Leo said, his voice desperate and worried, "Is it because of what I said?" He leaned over and put his arms around me. The moment his arms closed in on my body I sobbed even more, as if his embrace did nothing to stop the outpouring of emotions, only exasperating it. I wasn't sure why I was crying, but I knew I needed to. Tears streamed down my face like an uncontrollable flood. Even with my eyes closed, the tears swelled the banks and pushed the lashes back, following the warm stream down my cheeks, and eventually dropping onto the sand below to form droplets that rolled and rolled. "Shhhh, shhhhh, shhhhh, Dave," he hushed and hushed in my ear, like a big brother trying to comfort his younger brother who fell and hurt himself. A young boy who was unwilling, or perhaps unable, to stand up again. "Please, Dave, please don't cry, please." He was pleading, as if my pain was his pain. He rocked me in his arms the way you would try to comfort a baby. "Please, Dave, don't cry. Please..."
He held onto me tighter, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid he would lose me if he did. His hand stroked my arm, stroking it so softly and gently that even through the fabric of his jacket and my suit I could feel his soft and gentle touch cleanse away the pain. Slowly and slowly. His head leaned against mine, the little soft strands of his hair tickling my cheeks and forehead. He continued rocking me in his arms, trying to rock away the sobs, the tears, the pain. "Dave, whatever it is you can tell me," he whispered, just as the wind started to whisper again, in that soft and comforting hush, hush, hush..."I'm here for you. I'm here for you."
Just then, his cheek and the corner of his lip brushed against my drenched cheek, in a subtle but strangely soothing attempt to wipe the tears away. Our faces rubbed against each other, the smooth friction generating a source of heat I never felt before. The intense pains and troubled emotions melted away like snow. With his arms still around me, his body felt like a warm blanket that covered me and protected me from the elements. My sobbing, which shook my entire body every few seconds before, gradually wound down. The tears found no more reason to fall. My arms still clung onto my knees, and I was still huddled together in a small ball.
"Dave, are you feeling better now?" he said as he lifted his cheeks off of mine, the moisture and warmth still there, "If there's anything you want to talk about, I'm here for you." His hand stroked my arm again, softly and gently, channelling strength and encouragement into my drained body. "I really care about you, Dave. I want you to know that." More comforting words I have not heard in a long, long time. More comforting an embrace I have not felt in a long, long time.
I looked up, away from the sand and droplets of my tears I had been staring at for the past few minutes. My vision was still a gray, hazy blur, but as I looked at his face, his serene and smooth face, I saw the beauty I had for so long longed to be close to. And there he was, at my side, holding onto me. My eyes met his beautiful blue eyes, the colour of silent waves which washed away my sorrow. "Th--thank you, Leo," I said, my voice trembling and raspy, "You--you don't know how much all this means to me."
"Dave, whatever it is you're feeling, whatever it is you're thinking, I want you to know you can tell me. You can trust me," he whispered. Trust. That word echoed in my mind. The one thing I did not have. The one thing I could not give to others. "I really want to be close to you, Dave. So please don't turn me away like you do to everyone else." He was totally sincere. I could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he continued to stroke my arm.
"There's a lot yo--you don't know about m--e--me, Leo. A lot I've not--told anyone," I said so softly, like I was afraid to say the words. The world around us, the sea, the wind, the seagulls were all so quiet, it was as if they were all trying to listen.
"There's nothing that can stop me from feeling the way I do about you, Dave," he said, leaning over and brushing his cheek briefly against mine again. The only other time I felt this kind of intimacy was from Kitty. My face shivered as this amazing warmth swelled inside my chest again.
"How can you be so sure of your feelings?" I asked, sniffing.
"Because, Dave! It's in the way you make me smile, the way I think about you all the time. It's in the way, when our fingers touch, I get that jolt of emotions that travels all over my body. It's in the way, when I close my eyes and all I see is you." His breath caressed the side of my neck, full of warmth, full of tenderness.
Was he reading my mind? Was he stealing the very words and feelings I had stored deep inside, but was afraid to face them, let alone use them?
"I feel so ugly, so worthless. How can you even like someone like me?"
"Because, Dave, it's you! It's you who I like, who I really like. You, with all your doubts. You, who seems so nervous, but so innocent and pure at the same time. You, who is so strong and so beautiful in every way. That's you, Dave!" Dave, my name. The name he uttered so beautifully and repeatedly that I was even starting to like it. He was describing and talking to no one else but me. It was difficult to imagine, but there was no one else but me around. I blushed, the heat on my cheeks slowly evaporating the moist tears from before.
"You're so perfect, so good-looking, so happy in every way. I'm nothing like you."
"I'm not as wonderful as all that, Dave. I feel there's so much I can learn from you, so much you can show me. You shouldn't put yourself down like that. You're really a special someone, Dave, but you just don't realise it." He tightened his arms around me, making me feel so comforted, so cared for. "Why do you feel so badly about yourself?"
"I--I-- " I searched for the reason, one I knew, but was afraid to say because it was so full of thorns it hurt to push it out of my throat, "I--I had a terrible childhood. I was hurt. A lot." A lot... two short, simple words that took on incredible meaning, and again I felt my eyes water. My body trembled again.
"Oh, Dave, you're shaking again," he said full of concern, "It's alright. It's alright. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." However comforting those words and his calm, soft voice were, they could not stop the tears that started to drop and drop, and roll and roll in the sand. "You don't have to say anything now. I don't want to force you to do anything, Dave. I care about you, and I want you to be comfortable," he whispered in my ear, while his arms held onto me, and his hands gently and softly continued to stroke me, "I don't want you to be sad. It hurts me to see you sad. It really does." The words were powerful, penetrating and overwhelming. I felt I needed to be strong, for his sake more than for my own. I didn't want Leo to be sad, certainly not because of me. I swallowed the tears, hard. They tasted bitter and salty.
"I--I want to talk, Leo. I need to," I said as firmly as I could, but could not yet hold back the sobs and sniffs, "I--I--I was terribly abused as a child. Hurt so many, many times, again and again, I-- " I paused. I had to. I had to pull myself together to confront and force out those sealed memories and emotions that were rotting away the bounds of my consciousness and sanity. Breathing deeply, swallowing even deeper, I continued: "It happened for many, many years. And I told no one. I was hit, scolded, kicked and--and r--r--ra--rap--raped--" That last word...so dirty, so shameful, so guilty, so ugly, so dark, so horrible, so inhuman, so utterly disgusting. So very, very difficult to say.
There was total silence for several moments, then Leo's breathing became louder and louder. His eyes widened in disbelief at what he had just heard, his mouth contorted in distress, his forehead frowning as if he were in pain. And from the rim of his eye a streak of tears travelled down his cheek. "Oh, Leo, don't--" My finger brushed against his cheek, and stopped the tears before they fell. Instantly, my finger became warm and moist. I could stop his tears from falling, but could not stop my own. "Leo, don't--don't cry for me."
"How could I not?" he said, snivelling, his arms tightening more around me, warming me, protecting me, "I--I'm so sorry, Dave. I didn't realise. I didn't know. I--I--" He looked down and avoided me, like it was his fault he didn't know, didn't realise. Like it was his fault he couldn't prevent the terrible things that happened to me.
"I--I'm OK now," I said, my finger gently stroking his cheek, while I swallowed deep again, "It's all in the past. It's not happening anymore."
"But--but how? How could anything like this happen? How could anyone do this to you?"
"It happened. But it's all over now," I said, my breath trembling as I realised that it was not all over, "I--I've not talked about this to anyone, and--and it's only recently that I--I started facing it. I--I get--" Terrible images launched an assault on my mind, conjuring intense fear and shame. Fear so profound, so paralysing I felt I was balancing on the brink of life. Shame so intense, so numbing I wished someone would put me out of my misery. I shut my eyes, holding them down tightly, hoping the images would all go away. More tears broke through.
"You don't have to go on if you're not ready. I don't want you be so afraid. I don't want you to be sad, Dave." All I could see was darkness on the inside of my eyelids. But unexpectedly I felt Leo's breath caress my cheek, followed by a soft touch by something moist, something smooth.
A kiss. A small peck on my cheek. A few seconds of contact between his lips and my cheek. That was enough. Enough to blow away the images and memories of the past. Enough to make me open my eyes, to feel, to see, and to sense again. Enough to make me feel human all over again, like a newborn.
"Did--did you just--?"
"I did," he said, smiling back at me, sending such sweet sensation from the depths of my stomach up to my chest, flying around like fluttery butterflies throughout my body. "I could do it again, you know."
I grinned and looked down with embarrassment. I wanted him to, to kiss me again, because that simple kiss was like a giant sponge that absorbed the pain. The sea started to roll again after the many moments of silence. It was rustling, applauding, cheering.
"I'm sorry, Dave, is this is all too fast for you? But just then, when you had your eyes closed and your body starting trembling again, I didn't know what else to do. I should have thought about it. I should have waited. I should have asked. I should have--" I lifted my finger and placed it on his lips. As soon as the contact was made, his voice fell silent. My finger basked in his warmth breath and the soft texture and moisture on his lips.
"There's no need to apologise. It felt nice."
He removed an arm from around me and his hand reached over to grab the finger I had placed on his lips. " `Nice'? Just that?" he said, unsure whether to frown or laugh, as he lowered his hand, cupping my finger like a warm blanket within his palm.
"OK, it was comforting, warm! It made me feel warm. It made many dark thoughts go away." By this time his whole hand had taken over my own. My hand lay in his grasp, on his lap, powerless, helpless, submitting to his tender touch and the gentle touch of our skin together.
"What dark thoughts do you get, Dave?" he asked, "That is, if you're ready to tell me. I don't want you to feel pressured. I want you to feel comfortable around me." With his other arm which was around my body he hugged me in a sign of reassurance.
"Nightmares. I get terrible nightmares. And flashbacks. Memories of the past. Of the things that happened and things I saw," I said silently, almost inaudible because I was afraid the words would lure monsters out of the darkness all around us.
"Oh..." He nodded slightly, unsure what he could say, but his face said he was listening, that he was willing to listen and not judge. The grasp around my hand tightened.
"They've been occurring a lot. Usually at night, when I'm asleep. But sometimes during the day time too. A sound, or a scene could remind me of things. And those feelings come back. And they leave me so scared. So very scared." I trembled and trembled, as his arm held onto me tighter and tighter, trying to defend my body while at the same time battle the tremors.
"What are they of?"
"Of the abuses. Sometimes the terrible words I--I had to hear. Sometimes the physical abuse. But more often the s--se--ex--ual--sexual--" That word too was difficult to say. Because it was dirty, it was disgusting, it was vile.
"I'm so sorry, Dave. I'm so sorry for what you had to go through. I'm so sorry--" He kept on apologising, shaking his head, and apologising again.
"It wasn't your fault. It happened, but it's--it's all in the past now."
"But you suffered so much. It--it hurts me to hear all this you've had to go through. I don't know why, but it hurts me. And you still suffer from it."
"Ye--yes, I--I still do. It--It's like the experiences haunt me wherever I go. Like they're always around, waiting to strike again and hurt me. They make me so angry, so sad, so depressed. Like I'm worthless. Like I--I'm flawed in every way. Sometimes I feel so dead. Like I--I'm not living, but just barely surviving. Sometimes I--I don't want to live any more--" I sighed and sniffed, and looked down at the sand beneath, in search of the droplets of tears that were no more.
"Oh, Dave. Don't say that. Please don't say that. You're worth so much more than that. Don't say that. Don't even think that way, Dave." There was an anxiousness in his voice, one reserved for people you cared a lot about, and didn't want anything terrible, however small, to happen to them. He squeezed my hand and I felt warmer than I've ever felt before.
"The worst are the feelings of being useless. I--I feel like something was taken from me. Maybe the innocence, maybe the happiness, maybe my childhood. Something is always missing. I--I--feel so empty, so hollow inside. I--I know I was a victim, but then there are such intense feelings of guilt and shame. It's like I was the reason for everything that happened to me. That I'm to bla--blame for everything that is wrong." I was shivering, from the cold and the intense emotions I was releasing. But I surprised myself I could talk, despite the slight stammer, especially with the word `I'. Because that was what this was about. The wounded `I'. The hurt `I'. The shamed and guilt-filled `I'. And the `I' that was trying to heal.
"Is that why you're so afraid of people, Dave?"
"I--I guess. I often feel so unwanted. Like nobody can see me. Like nobody cares. I feel like I don't belong anywhere, because everyone else is so happy, so social and so perfect. And I--I'm just so insecure, so useless and ugly in every possible way."
"But you're not, Dave. You're nothing like that. You're much more than anyone else I've met. And that's why I like you. Like you so much. You can't imagine how much." I looked into his eyes, and saw such depth. The deeper I looked, the deeper I seemed to be realising what he meant, and what I was feeling toward him. They seemed to be one and the same.
"It--it's hard. It's hard to trust people, to get close to people. I'm so scared they'll hurt me again. I--I'm scared that they want to use me, to abuse me and to make me miserable and wor--worth--worthless. To add to the pain I--I already feel." I surprised myself that I could express myself so clearly. That I could make myself heard. And that someone was listening. The hurting from before, the darkness, the horrible images from before seemed to be shatter like glass with each word that penetratingly captured my emotions, dragging them up to the surface, and out into the open.
"But Dave, nobody wants to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you, Dave. Please believe that," he said, in that soothing, calming voice of his, as he leaned over and brushed his nose on the side of my neck, the ends of his hair tickling my face. "You must learn to love yourself, before anyone can love you. You're not a bad person. You're unique in so many ways, and you've gone through so much that other people cannot imagine at such a young age. That takes a lot of courage, Dave. Really." The sound of the sea echoed again in the background. Like a thousand hands in a chorus of muffled handclaps.
A flake fell.
I looked into his eyes, he looked into mine. A moment. I didn't know how long it lasted, but there was a moment. There was something in the silence, a lot of things unsaid. His lips were ever so close. "Leo...Th--thank you for listening. Thank you for being here," I said, shivering slightly as the attraction between us grew closer and closer, "I--I can't say how I--I'm so grateful for the past few weeks. And for this evening." My fingers wrapped around his warm hand, stroked the soft skin of his palm, each stroke leaving lingering sensations that reverberated into small shivers.
And another.
"Aww, you and your gratefulness. I've not done anything. I've just tried to be a good friend and stayed by you, someone I really care about. Thank you, Dave, for trusting me so, for telling me so many things you've never told anyone else. That means a lot to me," he said, leaning over closer and closer, "You mean a lot to me."
"You're more than just a good friend." My free hand reached for his other hand, the one that all this time had been stroking my arm so gently and softly.
"You--you mean that, Dave?" He sounded a little timid, as if he had been wanting and waiting to hear something to answer his doubts, and those words suddenly took those doubts away, leaving him surprised, but in a comforting way.
And another, followed by another, and another. And another. Flakes fell and flew all around us.
"Oh, God! It's snowing!"
"Oh! It's snowing! It's actually snowing!" Leo shouted, his arms raised up to the air to catch the falling flakes. They drifted and danced in the air, little white particles of ice, beautifully falling like white confetti from an invisible celebration in the heavens. The flakes fell and fell, landing on our clothes, covering them with sprinkles of the purest kind of white.
"This is so strange. Snow by the sea," I said, turning my head upward to the sky, overcome with childish excitement. It was so surreal, like a dream, a fantasy where sea, snow and sand combined in a strangely romantic setting in the most unlikely meeting of destinies. The thick, dense clouds showered us with their gifts, and we received them with great gratitude with our upturned faces.
"First a wild rain storm, and now snow. Oh, Dave, looks like heaven always has something in store for us," he said, looking at me, his face beaming with delight. Little flakes of white clung onto the ends of his eyelashes, the tip of his nose, and dangled adventurously on the strands of his hair. Uncontrollably my hand reached over and brushed off the tip of his nose. The snowflake melted on the tip of my finger.
I couldn't stop smiling. I was smiling so much my eyes became two thin slits. Wonderful warmth was in this cold snowfall, and what made it more wonderful was this person, this `someone who was more than just a good friend' to share it all with.He suddenly stood up and pulled me up with him, his jacket around my shoulders falling onto the sand. "Shall we dance? I know it's not rain, but it'll have to do this time!"
I answered with a broad grin and little nod. His hand held onto my hand, and my hand held onto his hand. We formed a human chain that way, as vague shadows beneath our feet merged as one. With our free arms flung wide and open, we stumbled on the sand in laughter, in joy, indulging ourselves in yet another liberating bout of childishness and innocent play. The snow simply fell and fell and fell all around us.
There was nothing subtle about our connection this time. Nothing fake, nothing hidden. The touches of our hands were not mistakes, not unintended accidents. They were meant to be. And I didn't have to think twice to let myself go this time. Because I seemed to have let myself go the moment my eyes met Leo's that night. I needed no great big oak to lean on, to shelter me from the heaven's confetti and cold. I had all I needed in my hand, and I held onto him tightly, as he held tightly onto me. We spun around, to the rhythm of a natural orchestra of the whispering wind, colliding waves, and the occasional far-away call of a gull.
Everything, every falling flake on our clothes, every grain of sand at our feet, every gust of air against our cheeks, every uncontrollable and freely expressed laughter...They took us further and further from the world of worries and pains, and closer and closer into a world where there were just two people, on an empty beach, dancing in the falling snow.
Just then, he yanked my arm, and I stumbled toward him, almost falling at his feet. "Oh, steady Dave. No need to kneel again," he teased as he helped me stand up straight again. His arms closed in around me and his hands locked together, resting on the back of my pelvis. I was in his arms, again. My breath became short, again. My heart started to jump and thump, again.
He stood facing me, our eyes level, just as our lips were. I stared into his eyes, his beautiful eyes. There was such an intense feeling inside them, such passion and care burning in the soft blue hue. His lips were so close, so very close. I could almost feel the warm moisture on them as I longed to draw them closer, to draw them onto mine.
"Ca--can I--?"
I said nothing. My arms took on a life of their own and closed around Leo's firm body. I felt his breath on the tip of my nose, on my cheeks, warming my lips as if in preparation. His fragrance overwhelmed my thoughts, teasing me, teasing my mind, trying to tempt me into something I dared not do, but had forever longed for. I said nothing. I simply closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift, dream, drown...
And then it happened. His lips touched my lips. A subtle, gentle brush at first, amid our breaths that warmed up the cold, dry air for an intense, heated passion that was about to ensue. His lips slid on my lips. Like two opposite poles destined to attract one another, that had forever been searching for the perfect match, the perfect moment, and now were finally sealed. So soft, so smooth, so tingling a feeling I've never felt before. The subtle brush of our lips against one another sent a sudden surge of stimulation and charged my heart and soul. Leo's hands slid on my back, caressing and easing the tense muscles there. They dug under my suit jacket, fondling the soft material of my shirt. Through the thin sheath of fabric it was as if I could feel the erotic impulses flow from the tips of his fingers onto my back.
We broke off our first kiss, panting, heaving. It was so intense we both seemed physically unprepared and drained. But the passionate mutual glances expressed better than any words could that we both wanted more. The cold, cold snow continued falling, onto our clothes, onto our faces. And there was only one way to keep warm.
Leo's beautiful eyes shut softly. And I did the same. Our lips met again. More forcefully than before. I opened mine slightly, and his bottom lip slid willingly into the opening. My lips came together, trembling ever so slightly as they sucked softly on his lip. Another new sensation, another dimension to the physical contact we were eagerly trying to explore between us. He let out a low groan in his throat, telling me how much that was pleasuring him, pleasing him. My hand reached for his soft sandy hair, and dug into it, trembling and also melting at the feel of its texture. Like silk, each strand so smooth and fine to the touch, each tickling the tips of my fingers.
We broke off the kiss again, panting and heaving, knowing it could not stop then and there, realising that kissing was like taking a long satisfying drink, where the effects would wear off soon and you have to take another, each time more intense, more sexual. This time I shut my eyes first, allowing myself to start drifting, dreaming, drowning in his tight embrace. And he understood.
His lips brushed against mine again and he returned the favour by clenching his lips onto my top lip. As he did that, I realised his hands had managed to wriggle under my shirt. The tenderness of his palms and slim fingers more than compensated for the cold draught seeping through. It was all so erotic, so arousing, it drove me to the brink of yearning, where it was bristling with the unquenchable thirst for more, for going deeper, for going further...
And deeper we went. Suddenly, I felt Leo's tongue try to penetrate my lips and force its way inside. I couldn't resist, and I didn't resist, as his mouth drove through, and his tongue met mine. The touch seemed explosive. First the tips of our tongues met like two shy boys. After a few gentle strokes, they decided to play with each other, rolling and dancing together inside our mouths. The vibrations, the intensity, the passion! I've never felt so alive, so warm and so wanted in my whole life. I moaned irresistibly and felt my whole body shiver again. This could not be real. This could not be happening. But it was. I suddenly missed my breathing and heartbeats. Unwillingly I broke off the kiss, panting wildly in a way I only thought possible after running. We stared into each other's eyes, drunk with passion and pleasure.
"Was it--?"
"Like nothing I expected."
"In a good or--"
"Good way, Dave," he grinned, his moist and burning lips puckering together.
"Leo...?"
"Hm, Dave?"
"What did you wish for earlier tonight?"
There were a few seconds of silence. He sweetly smiled, and leaned in closer. I felt the warmth of his breath heat and moisten my cheeks again. "You, Dave. I wished for you."
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