His eyes were half lidded. Begging. Pleading. His teeth clamped over his bottom lip as he wriggled a little on his back, his gaze soft but insistent, refusing to take his eyes off mine. Deep churning hazel challenging me even as he gave an innocent whimper.
I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of giving up so easily. Control wasn't what I was after, but I'll be damned if I let him have it. So I fought for it, with everything I had in me I fought for it. I met his gaze head on and never let my emotions dance forth in fear that they'd show on my face. In my eyes. Whisper their secrets with each exhale of breath. He couldn't know. He could never be allowed to know.
The use of my full name caught me a little off guard but not enough, I kept my composure and slowly unbuttoned my shirt, keeping my face expressionless as his lips formed a frustrated pout. You couldn't tell it was from frustration, not unless you looked real closely. Not unless you knew him as well as I did. And I know him better than anyone. He should have belonged to me, should have always been mine. But the band on his finger may as well have been a gulf separating us. Though of course he's not entirely to blame. I have a band just like it, though it doesn't match his. It matches hers. His and hers. Never his and his. God forbid he and I would ever have been crazy enough to do something like that.
"Are you angry at me?"
He whispers the question with a hint of shock in his voice and I can't help but look at him in surprise. If I let anger show on my face then I never intended it, especially not towards him. He drives me insane and I half the time I really just wish he would leave but never am I angry with him.
"Of course not."
I breathe, half snarl. I don't want to talk. If I'm going to do this I can't talk to him. It would only lead to a conversation far too early to face, but long overdue. The honesty would only pour out and we both know honesty is the last thing we need.
"Oh God... Gee..."
The doubts and second guesses instantly leak away, chased by his delicious voice as memories surge forward. All those nights, all those times, so long ago. Too long ago. I grind my hips down onto his and he gasps, trying to work his wrists out of their bonds, my belt binding them tight to the head board of the bed. It's his own fault. He couldn't expect to drag me here, to this sleazy motel in the middle of nowhere to drag forward feelings we should have buried so long ago without getting some sort of punishment. I wasn't going to just lye back and pretend that this was some home we'd built together, that this was just another night of sweet love making we shared because we were married or something stupid. No. I was going to keep myself firmly in reality. This was a motel bed and a motel room, and nothing more than a one off fuck just because we're too damn weak to deny ourselves - and I was not going to let him pretend otherwise either.
"I thought you said you were going to leave?"
I glare at him and practically tear off his jeans before roughly getting out of my own. He still has that damn innocent look on his face but I can hear he's trying not to smirk. Teasing me. Because he knows he's in control. He may be tied down and I may be the one taking him after all these years, but I'm also the one who said I wouldn't do this. Would never do this again. Not after we both got engaged. Married. Became family men.
I hate him so much in that moment and I take my revenge by pushing into him without prepping him first, not pausing to let him adjust, licking the tears that drop down his cheeks away with my tongue and smirking. It's his own fault. His own fucking fault. All of this is his fault. If it wasn't for him, wasn't for his God, for all those morals of his strung up so high, then this would just be another night of sweet love making. But he ruined it. And I won’t ever let him have that honesty he was given so long ago again.
"Agh fuck Gee... it hurts..."
His hips buck up to mine even as he says it and I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as I thrust into him. I don’t care if it hurts. I want it to hurt. I want him to hurt like I did. Like I do. I wish he would feel all that pain he made me feel. For all those years. And it's his fault. I didn't want to come here. But of course, he insisted. I knew what he wanted. And I won't give it up. Those words were never enough for him before and they no longer belong to him. Like he no longer belongs to me.
"Gerard... uunn... fuck babe... untie me.... p - please Gee... untie me..."
I pound my hips into him hard and fast, the incredible warmth, the incredible tightness, it's hard to imagine how I went without it for so long. I shake my head, denying his request even as I sink down to capture a nipple in my mouth, his mewls and moans spurring me on as I roll the nub between my teeth. The pain must have gone because he's going crazy, writhing on the bed like the whore I remember, my hand round his cock might have something to do with that, but that’s for my pleasure not his. It feels like forever since I ever touched an erection other than my own and I love to feel him throbbing in my hand, love the way he clenches around me, the ways he begs for more. And he could have had more. He could have had everything and I - But he doesn’t need to know that. He can never know that.
"Oh God... so close... Gee... untie me... babe please... untie me... it’s important..."
I can't imagine what could ever be so important that I actually have to give him an ounce of freedom, but I do as he asks. But only because I'm so close anyway, and I'm too far gone in my own pleasure to really think about anything.
"Oh God... thank you... FUCK! Mmm Gee - right there..."
His hands are shaking badly as his hips buck erratically, trying to get me even deeper as I press into that special spot and thrust against it, looking through half lidded eyes as he rips his wedding band from his finger and lets it slide to the floor. I feel a sickening lurch of the heart and then his hands on mine, pulling it away from his erection to remove my own band. I hook my fingers in a weak attempt to make him stop but soon the shining gold has joined his on the floor and he laces our fingers, clutching my hand so tight it hurts as he screams my name.
The beautiful arch his back makes and the way he convulses against me has me joining him in a climax that is bitter sweet. His hand stays tight on mine and I'm gripping back just as tightly, clenching my teeth as I release inside him before slumping on his chest. The tears on my cheeks are fine because he's crying too, both of us panting through our sobs as his free hand tangles into my sweat dampened hair.
"I still love you Gee."
"Don't say that."
"But it's true. I would have married you... I wish I had... but you know I couldn't do that..."
The pain is as fresh as it was the first time he said that to me. Five years ago, when I first asked him, and he simply said 'he couldn't do that'. Not when he had a perfectly good woman willing to be his forever instead. He's a hypocrite. Dragging me here for this and just sinning anyway. Even worse than if he'd actually taken me up on my offer.
"I don't love you anymore."
It's a lie. A blatant, painfully obvious lie. But what good is the truth? He can't know the truth. He can never know the truth.
"Don't say that."
His sobs are worse and I look up at him, his eyes screwed shut as tears pour down his cheeks. And I hate him. I'll always fucking hate him. I have to hate him because I...
"I love you."
It's a whisper, but he hears it. It's weak and he knows it’s because I'm defeated. Beaten. Abused. I'm heart sick and it's terminal.
"My heart will always belong to you."
"Don't say that."
"I'm going to fucking say it Gee!"
He's angry. And it's the most real emotion I've seen from him in a long time. It's raw and it's unwanted, and so I crave it.
"I'm not yours, but my heart is. And it will only beat while yours does."
"That’s fucking cliché."
"It's the truth."
"I hate you."
There's a pause, he tenses, and I look up at him again. He looks down and our eyes lock, and then we can see it. We both know the truth.
"I hate you too."
"I'll always love you though. I hate you because I love you. You've ruined me Frankie. And I fucking love you."
There's the flash of a grin. But it's not smug or innocent or the Frank I used to know. It's broken and it's hurting and it's everything I felt for all those years, mirrored back at me.
"I love you too. And I ruined us both."
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