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I lean into his touch as his thumb strokes my eyebrow, my cheek. “I was wrong. I say a lot of shit I can’t back up. I know I shouldn’t, but I want it to be true so bad I convince myself.”
To my surprise, he chuckles softly. “I know.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be ok.”
“Maybe not.”
I tense up, start to pull away. “I’m not sureI’mgoing to be ok.”
“Shh,” he breathes. “I know.” He tugs my shoulder until I’m lying down with my head in his lap. His fingers run through my hair, trace my jaw.
“I want to be the one who keeps you safe, the only one that hates you right.” It’s all spilling out, and I can’t stop it. Without the fear of hurting someone you love, there’s no limit to what you can say. “But it’s harder to be strong here.”
“Listen.” He tips my head until I’m looking up at him, like Mom does with me while we watch TV. “Give me your phone.”
It’s probably not a good idea, but I would do anything to stay here even another minute, before we run out of chances to break ourone last timepromise. He takes both of our phones and runs to the balcony. I sit up. “Victor.”
But it’s too late. He chucks them over the railing and suddenly I lose the will to worry any more. He grins at me as he yanks the corded phone cable out of the wall. “Now no one can bother us, not tonight.”
I shake my head. “It’s called knocking on the door.”
“Shut up.” He tackles me, throwing me on my back into the pillows with him sprawled all over me.
“That’s how you wanna do this?” I try to hook his leg, flip him over, but he’s like a squirmy fish, laughing breathlessly as he escapes. Wrestling turns into hungry grinding and humping and kisses with too much teeth as we fight for who gets to be on top. In the end Victor wins, trapping my thighs under his knees and raising his fists in victory as I lie there, panting. We’re both ridiculously hard in our pants.
He leans down and kisses me deep, over and over. He presses his erection to mine and rubs them together with smooth pumps of his hips until I moan.
“Victor,” I say against his mouth.
He chases another kiss, then sits back, watching me. I run my hand down his chest, the body I marked as my own, erasing everyone else who has ever touched him. Sliding my fingers under the waistband of his sweats, I stroke the soft skin of his hip. “I’m sorry.”
His head tips like a curious puppy, but his voice is rough and needy. “Why?”
I’m scared to say it. Part of me expects him to get up and leave. “I don’t think I can hurt you tonight.”
His eyes cloud a little, and the corner of his mouth tips up in a sad, strange smile. “God, you’re so soft tonight. My soft boy.”
He takes my wrists, pins them gently over my head, and kisses me again. He tips my chin up with his nose and sucks on the line of my throat. “You don’t have to hurt anybody, baby,” he whispers. I feel like I’m dreaming, losing my mind. I don’t know this Victor. I’m not sure he does either.
“But that’s what we do. That’s all we have.” I whimper when he slides down and laps at my hard nipples.
“I have an idea, ok? A game.” He rests his chin on my chest, looking up at me, still holding my wrists down. “We’ll fuck every night until you leave, and every night we’ll pretend something different. We’ll try on all the different ways we could be together in all the different universes and realities. And maybe we’ll find the one—” he cuts himself off, buries his face in the hollow of my throat.
Finally he continues, voice muffled. “And it won’t matter if things fucking suck during the day, because we’ll know that we’re coming back here.”
I pull my arms free and prop myself up on my elbows. “This is the opposite of pretending nothing ever happened.”
He crawls back up my body, eyes lidded, and puts his forehead against mine. Right now, his irises are the color of the moon. “It hurts too much,” he whispers. “I need to quit you slow, or it’s going to kill me.”
I sit up and push him against the side of the bed, pulling his sweatpants down until his ass is hot in my hands and his cock, glistening with trails of precum, stands proud between my thighs. “What game are we playing tonight?”
He leans back, drinking in my face like he’s looking for an anchor, something to give him courage. His lips work for a moment, his breath catching, and I can feel his heart beating fast. “I—” He looks away, makes a sound of frustration in his throat. “Fuck.”
Then he grabs my face in his hands and kisses me breathless and somewhere between the strokes of his tongue I feel him speaking into my mouth.
“Tell me you love me.”
I pull back. It feels like a train hit me, just wiped me off the face of the earth, and I have no idea if it’s good or bad or right or wrong. For a second, I go dizzy, like I’m going to puke. “What?”
