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Last night was the best sex of my life, and it’s not about the sex per se, though that was fucking hot. It’s about him.
The way he cried out my name and held on to me and kissed me. The way he let me in. Evendemandedit.
Why the fuck did I think he’d choose to stay this time?
He doesn’t. It’s not what he does.
It’s not what I usually want, either. I don’t like sharing space with my fuck buddies outside of sex. They’re welcome to stay the night in the Heathens' mansion, but only if they’re not in my immediate vicinity.
So why the fuck do I feel any other way about Bran?
Maybe it’s the fact that you call him that and a few other nicknames, not to mention the fact that you got this fucking place just so he’d feel safe away from everyone else?
Yeah, so I did that. He’s always paranoid about people and their meaningless fucking opinions, so I thought he’d feel more comfortable in a place that’s only for us. I mean, for him to meet me here.
There is nous.
Apparently, he didn’t feel safe enough to stay.
I stroke my necklace and catch a glimpse of the clock. Ten a.m.
Motherfucker.
I missed the morning run for the second morning in a row.
It’s true that I haven’t been sleeping much the past couple of nights, but I shouldn’t have overslept and missed the highlight of my day.
My movements are lethargic as I search for my phone. I scan the texts at the top, but ignore them when I don’t find his name.
Then I open IG and find his usual story at five thirty sharp.Jesus Christ. The man is a fucking running machine.
The first story ends and the second shows a canvas with a few haphazard red lines. Not sure what those mean, but red is good. Right? Well, it’s good to me because it represents blood and violence. Not sure golden-boy Bran feels the same.
I pull out the text exchange I have with him and type,Why the fuck did you run away again?
But then delete it.
That sounded desperate and clingy even to my own ears. Fuck me.
Chill, Kolya, dude. You’re giving the Sokolov name a bad rep.
Though that’s fucking impossible now that I’ve claimed Bran. It was supposed to be just a fuck. I’ve always fucked. Fucking ended at the moment of release.
Not withhim.
Last night, I came here with the sole intention of fucking him all up, taking what I wanted, then discarding him like he usually does me.
I intended to fuck him and then make him disappear from my life like Dad told me to.
But that was before he kissed me and asked me to fuck him.
That was before he looked at me with those soft eyes.
He pulled my anger apart with every touch, every kiss, and every groan and grunt. I couldn’t hold on to that rage when he put his hands on me.
The battered cells in my hyper brain didn’t mellow out, but his presence provided them with tunnel vision. A target for my monstrous energy.
Others fuel that energy.
