Confessions

“I keep telling myself I won’t come back here.” He’s sprawled in my chair, clutching one of my books.

“We don’t have to have sex. That’s not the only reason I call, you know.” It doesn’t occur to me until much later that it’s the only reason he answers.

“When you called–I was trying to figure out how to break up with you. Except I can’t.”

I laugh. He looks up at me. “Sorry, just…wouldn’t we have to be together before we could break up?”

“Well, if you’re going to be sensible about it…”

“So why can’t you?”

“Mm?”

“Stop coming back. It’s because I beat you at Smash Bros, isn’t it. You want a rematch.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely not it.” He stands up, looking for a place to put the book down. I get up and put it away before I give him my attention.

We’re face to face and too close to be coy. I take his hat off to run my fingers through his hair. He leans into me, close enough that his nose brushes my cheek and then bumps closer. Close enough that not kissing is unreasonable, deliberate torment.

“We don’t have to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, but you’re always miserable after.” I’ve pulled back. “I like sex. I like sex with you. I don’t want to be the awful woman who makes you sin.”

“Awful.” His voice is soft, his mouth so close to mine. “You aren’t making me do anything. Only making me want to.” I don’t know what to say. My hands are on his hip, on the back of his neck. All I want to do is pull him closer. I’ve initiated every time and I’m afraid he only half wants it. I stand still. He moves closer. “Lord, give me temperance…but not yet.”

Not yet. I don’t kiss him and he doesn’t kiss me. We let go, slam together with the inevitability of gravity. His weight and his intensity drive me back until my legs hit the bed. When I fall I drag him after me. His teeth close on my throat. I’m trying to stay quiet, not sure if my roommate is home. She used to go out with him. I’m not sure how awkward this is for her. I’m pulling his hair, snarling, wrapping my legs around him. I want to tear his clothes off. I have no intention of putting enough distance between us to get him out of them.

He rolls away to unbutton my shirt. There’s no fumbling: he’s neat and focused. I fling the shirt on the floor as soon as I can jerk my arms out of it. I reach to untuck his but he pulls back. “Did I do that?”

I look down. My upper arms are covered in leopard-spot bruises. “Yeah.” I grin. “I think you missed a spot.”

He runs his hands over my shoulders, too gently. I lean into the pressure, groan a little when he tightens his grip. His mouth lands on mine. It’s unexpected–I’ve kissed him before, and he kisses well, but he always moves away to kiss and bite every other inch of skin he can find. This time I hold him in place. We don’t break apart until I pull his t-shirt over his head.

I slide out of the rest of my clothes and onto his lap. He reaches between my legs to pop the button on his jeans, then stops. “Condoms?”

Hell. “Yes, but not– Roommate needed–” I trail off. He doesn’t need to know she’s fucking someone else, or who. “I don’t know if she’s home.” I keep a bowl of them on my desk. They don’t fit him and neither of us needs the fear of another one breaking.

“Not when I got here.” He stands up. “I know where she keeps them. I’ll explain if she’s here.” I consider arguing that I should go, but he has clothes on and I don’t. I nod. He’s only gone a few seconds, long enough for me to get nervous again. He notices. “You okay?”

I stand to put my arms around his neck. “Could be better.” He grins and lets me pull his face up to mine. I’m biting his lip hard. He dips slightly, pushing his jeans down. He catches my thighs in his hands as he straightens back up, lifts me off the ground. We teeter a moment before tumbling onto the bed. He lands on top of me. His hand slides up my thigh. I’m gasping, pushing closer to him, but he shoves me down. His teeth close on flesh an inch below my collarbone. I curl my fingers in his hair, not sure whether to pull him closer or away. “Will you please fuck me already?”

There’s a moment of fumbling with the condom. He’s shy of being watched, and I like his shyness. “Are you sure–?” I pull his hips toward me. “Yes.” He pushes into me slowly. He’s watching my face, almost comically concerned. It does hurt. His cock is the largest I’ve seen and I’m not in the habit of using lube. But I like the pain. I thrust against him hard, making us both groan out loud. I hold still, a shivering line of tension from shoulder to cunt. It takes a moment before I can stop gasping long enough to speak. “Fuck me. Hard.”

It’s his turn to shiver. He does, choking out half-sentences between gasps while I dig my nails into his back. I’m not listening. I tell him to bite, yes, harder, and he does, with one hand over my mouth to muffle the screaming when I come. And again. We’re all shuddering sweat and sound blending together. He moans “I’m going to…ngh. Please–”

I don’t remember if I answered–I was somewhere past words and his “please” pushed me over the edge again. His whole body jerked, knocked the breath out of me. When he rolled over he pulled me on top of him and held on tight.

We lay there a long time, not talking, or if we did talk it wasn’t about much. I asked if he was going to stay the night. He wasn’t, and he took that as his cue to check the time and pull on his jeans. I watch from bed, too content to move.

“Still think you’re going to stop coming back here?”

He grins at me from the doorway. “Not yet.”

6 thoughts on “Confessions”

    1. So much. Never been seduced by St. Augustine again, either before or since. There’s something completely, delightfully wrong about it and I love it.

      1. Had to read up on St. Augustine to understand the reference. I think I may get it now. 🙂 And I learned a great word – concupiscence – in the process!

        1. Concupiscent, one of my favorite words. 🙂 Almost sin, leads to sin, but still innocent. Learned it from Wallace Stevens, Emperor of Ice Cream, which might explain some of my fondness for making ice cream from scratch.

          (For anyone else following, St. Augustine had a rather lengthy phase of utter, delightful debauchery before he became ascetic and earned a saintly reputation. One prayer he mentions in Confessions is “Lord, give me chastity and temperance, but not yet.” Just…perfect.)

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