Monthly Challenge: Back to You (Can't Get Away)
Title: Back to You (Can't Get Away)
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Warnings: angst, smut, cheating
Pairings: Ian/Anthony, Ian/OFC
Summary: No matter what, he could never let him go, even when he was with her.
Author's Note: I can't believe it's actually fucking September. Seriously, what the firetruck? Time is flying. While reading: Ian is him, Anthony is him and Ian's girlfriend is her.
There was so many things wrong with right now. For one thing, he shouldn't be here with him, he should be with her, having dinner and laughing at one of her jokes. He should be telling her how beautiful she looked and how lucky he was to have her. The second thing was that he was naked, under him, moaning in pleasure as he filled his ass with his dick. He was withering under his touch, his gentle yet possessive touch that made him crave more with every brush of the skin. And finally, he wanted to be here. He wanted to be touched and stretched and kissed and caressed. He didn't want to be sitting at a table across from her, complimenting her and paying for the check. He didn't want to go back to her apartment with her and have somewhat satisfying sex on her couch. He didn't want to kiss her good-bye as she left for work and he went back home to him. No, he wanted to be right here, in his bed, having the best sex of his life.
He looked up, finding himself lost in warm chocolate eyes, coming as he stared up at him. His body shook with pleasure, the feeling of ecstasy igniting his bones. His deep moans filled the room, and soon his pleasured groans accompanied them as he came inside him. After coming down from their highs, they both laid next to each other, breathing heavily, neither of them saying anything or moving.
Soon, he fell asleep, exhausted from sex, completely forgetting out the date that he was supposed to be on with the girl that he was supposed to love.
•-•
She was talking to him, going on and on about something, he couldn't remember what, and then he walked in and he lit up like a Christmas tree, happy as fuck to have someone save him from this neverending conversation, if you could even call it that. It was days like these when he wondered why he was still with her when he could have so much more with him.
Don't get him wrong, he loved her and cared for her but he just didn't feel the spark that made chills run down his spine whenever they kissed or butterflies in his stomach whenever he looked at her. He didn't have the desire to kiss her glossy lips or caress her smooth, pale skin. There was no burning desire to fuck her senseless whenever he was undressing her. But he loved her.
She was sweet and caring, listening to what he has to say and offering comfort and moral support when needed. She was there for him in the ways he couldn't and shouldn't be. She filled the actual lover position in his life. He wasn't a real lover. He didn't want a commitment or a relationship with him, he just wanted sex. And yet despite all of that, he couldn't stop himself from giving into his sexual desires, allowing him to fuck him into oblivion when he was to supposed to be spending time with her.
He smirked at him, that smirk that was teasing and annoying yet endearing and sexy all at the same time. He frowned back, not wanting to create suspicion, trying to tune in on whatever she was saying. It was a lost cause; he was already distracted by him and when his attention was grabbed by him, it stayed in his hands until he walked away from him. And the worst part of it was he knew.
He knew almost everything about him; they were best friends after all. Also, he could never hide anything from him. He could always see right through him without putting any effort into it. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably both. God, sometimes he hated his life.
While his internal conflict continued, she tried to get his attention but it was proven to be a lost cause; he was so wrapped up in his self-loathing that he didn't even realize "the love of his life" was seeking his attention. He stood watching all of this, mildly amused at how messed up this situation truly was. And that just made this…this game that they were all playing even more fun. He was interested in how all of this was going to end.
•-•
She knew something was going on with him and he either knew what it was or had something to do with it. She suspected something was up with him for a while, him not answering her texts or calls, occasionally canceling dates or that one rare time when he blew her off, claiming that he forgot that they were supposed to have dinner with her sister and her sister's boyfriend. She brushed it off at first, deciding that he was just tired and overworked. Then, he started acting differently.
He became distant, often getting lost in thought and zoning out, especially when he was around. It's like she could do absolutely anything and she still wouldn't be able to hold his attention. Nothing seemed to be good enough. She started to wonder what had changed between them. Then, during sex, it was like he wanted to get off as he possibly could. Was there something wrong with her? Was she not good enough for him? Was he seeing someone else behind her back? Did he not love her anymore? Why? There were so many questions she couldn't answer, not without asking him directly. And that was not an option. He always shut down when felt someone was digging too hard and to Ian, any digging was too hard.
It was like that for two months, his strange behavior and her worrying about him. And then, he suddenly changed again, back to his normal self, pretending like nothing had ever happened. She thought she was going mad but then, she thought, maybe he was. Whatever it was, it was done and gone now, and for that, she was grateful. That only lasted for about three, maybe four weeks.
He started snapping at her everytime she said something to him and was touchy as hell. She couldn't have a conversation with him without it ending in an argument between the two of them. The only time he ever seemed happy to her was when he was around. It was like he flipped on a light switch in him, a light switch that she couldn't reach, no matter how hard she tried. And the questions that had swirled in her mind during his last attitude adjustment came back at full force. But there was one other question that was added to the pile. Why does he make him so happy? She tried not to dwell on the question for too long, fearing she already knew the answer, the one answer that she didn't want to hear.
After a month of touchiness, she was just about ready to break up with him, fed up with him being such a douchebag. Then, suddenly, he apologized, promising he would change back into the real him. He didn't keep his promise. He became spacey again but more…troubled that time around. He looked troubled and conflicted when he was with her, as if something was constantly bothering him when she was around. And that's how he stayed.
She was on the verge on breaking up with him, not wanting to deal with whatever was wrong with him…or her. Maybe she was the problem altogether and should just leave. Maybe that would make him happier. But what if she wasn't the problem? Maybe he was conflicted about asking her something…like to move in…or to marry! Yes, maybe that was it. But the only way she was going to find out what's wrong with him is by going to him.
•-•
He had been waiting for her to confront him about him for a while now. It was bound to happen, since he kept having periodic mood swings since they began fucking. He thought it was kind of sexy because he was the one who was causing them. Otherwise, he would've found them annoying and told him to stop being a little bitch. But, no, they were hot and that's all he to say on the subject. But that's not what she thought.
When she confronted him about it, outright asking him if knew what the source of his mood swings was, he was bewildered by her bluntness. She had never been a straight-to-the-point kind of girl, she was more dabble for a bit too long on the details kind of person and he respected that, liked it even. So he figured she must've been worried sick about him, though there wasn't much to worry about. He would recover, probably, in time, most likely. He didn't think she needed to be as worried as she was and that she was probably just one of those people who overreacts to change. But then again, she didn't know that they were fucking behind her back.
He tried to calm her down, telling her that he was fine and would get better soon, that it was just a funk that he was going through. She smiled weakly at him and agreed half-heartedly, still worried about her love and hoping that he was right, that all of this was just a phase and that's all.
•-•
Weeks pasted and there was still no relief. His detached mood wasn't changing, that was for sure. She watched him closely, observing him and reaching to a conclusion: he was not the man that she had fell in love with two years ago in a club in downtown Sacramento. He wasn't the funny and awkwardly charming guy that laughed at her stupid jokes and brought her to her favorite resturant every other Saturday. He wasn't himself anymore; he was a distant ghost of the man he used to be, lost in the wind. He wasn't hers anymore.
She decided to break up with him because, just like the old saying goes, if you love something, let it go. And that's what she did. She drove over to the house he shared with him and told him that things had changed between them and it just wasn't working. He whole-heartedly agreed, saying he felt exactly the same way and maybe they could be friends. She shook her head sadly and told them that it wasn't the best idea, not until she was completely over him. After that, she stood up from the couch and so did he. They hugged each other tightly and then released after a long while. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and decided that she had to leave at that instant before she broke down.
On her way out, as she pasted him, she gave him a look that meant take care of him. He nodded, was intending on doing that anyway. Then she smiled and closed the door gently behind her, making sure the click was barely audible. The two friends exchanged a look and he tackled him to the ground and had his way with him on the floor of their living room. Just before he came, he said the three little words that he never wanted directed at him, ever. I love you. He pretended that he hadn't heard it and came right after him.
In the morning, he woke up to an empty bed. There was a card on the bedside table. He picked it up and after he read the two words on it, he cried and cursed him at the same time. I'm sorry.
•-•
Dammit, I really hate sad and open endings. Fuck. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little sad piece of shit. =.=" Thanks for reading!
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Warnings: angst, smut, cheating
Pairings: Ian/Anthony, Ian/OFC
Summary: No matter what, he could never let him go, even when he was with her.
Author's Note: I can't believe it's actually fucking September. Seriously, what the firetruck? Time is flying. While reading: Ian is him, Anthony is him and Ian's girlfriend is her.
There was so many things wrong with right now. For one thing, he shouldn't be here with him, he should be with her, having dinner and laughing at one of her jokes. He should be telling her how beautiful she looked and how lucky he was to have her. The second thing was that he was naked, under him, moaning in pleasure as he filled his ass with his dick. He was withering under his touch, his gentle yet possessive touch that made him crave more with every brush of the skin. And finally, he wanted to be here. He wanted to be touched and stretched and kissed and caressed. He didn't want to be sitting at a table across from her, complimenting her and paying for the check. He didn't want to go back to her apartment with her and have somewhat satisfying sex on her couch. He didn't want to kiss her good-bye as she left for work and he went back home to him. No, he wanted to be right here, in his bed, having the best sex of his life.
He looked up, finding himself lost in warm chocolate eyes, coming as he stared up at him. His body shook with pleasure, the feeling of ecstasy igniting his bones. His deep moans filled the room, and soon his pleasured groans accompanied them as he came inside him. After coming down from their highs, they both laid next to each other, breathing heavily, neither of them saying anything or moving.
Soon, he fell asleep, exhausted from sex, completely forgetting out the date that he was supposed to be on with the girl that he was supposed to love.
•-•
She was talking to him, going on and on about something, he couldn't remember what, and then he walked in and he lit up like a Christmas tree, happy as fuck to have someone save him from this neverending conversation, if you could even call it that. It was days like these when he wondered why he was still with her when he could have so much more with him.
Don't get him wrong, he loved her and cared for her but he just didn't feel the spark that made chills run down his spine whenever they kissed or butterflies in his stomach whenever he looked at her. He didn't have the desire to kiss her glossy lips or caress her smooth, pale skin. There was no burning desire to fuck her senseless whenever he was undressing her. But he loved her.
She was sweet and caring, listening to what he has to say and offering comfort and moral support when needed. She was there for him in the ways he couldn't and shouldn't be. She filled the actual lover position in his life. He wasn't a real lover. He didn't want a commitment or a relationship with him, he just wanted sex. And yet despite all of that, he couldn't stop himself from giving into his sexual desires, allowing him to fuck him into oblivion when he was to supposed to be spending time with her.
He smirked at him, that smirk that was teasing and annoying yet endearing and sexy all at the same time. He frowned back, not wanting to create suspicion, trying to tune in on whatever she was saying. It was a lost cause; he was already distracted by him and when his attention was grabbed by him, it stayed in his hands until he walked away from him. And the worst part of it was he knew.
He knew almost everything about him; they were best friends after all. Also, he could never hide anything from him. He could always see right through him without putting any effort into it. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably both. God, sometimes he hated his life.
While his internal conflict continued, she tried to get his attention but it was proven to be a lost cause; he was so wrapped up in his self-loathing that he didn't even realize "the love of his life" was seeking his attention. He stood watching all of this, mildly amused at how messed up this situation truly was. And that just made this…this game that they were all playing even more fun. He was interested in how all of this was going to end.
•-•
She knew something was going on with him and he either knew what it was or had something to do with it. She suspected something was up with him for a while, him not answering her texts or calls, occasionally canceling dates or that one rare time when he blew her off, claiming that he forgot that they were supposed to have dinner with her sister and her sister's boyfriend. She brushed it off at first, deciding that he was just tired and overworked. Then, he started acting differently.
He became distant, often getting lost in thought and zoning out, especially when he was around. It's like she could do absolutely anything and she still wouldn't be able to hold his attention. Nothing seemed to be good enough. She started to wonder what had changed between them. Then, during sex, it was like he wanted to get off as he possibly could. Was there something wrong with her? Was she not good enough for him? Was he seeing someone else behind her back? Did he not love her anymore? Why? There were so many questions she couldn't answer, not without asking him directly. And that was not an option. He always shut down when felt someone was digging too hard and to Ian, any digging was too hard.
It was like that for two months, his strange behavior and her worrying about him. And then, he suddenly changed again, back to his normal self, pretending like nothing had ever happened. She thought she was going mad but then, she thought, maybe he was. Whatever it was, it was done and gone now, and for that, she was grateful. That only lasted for about three, maybe four weeks.
He started snapping at her everytime she said something to him and was touchy as hell. She couldn't have a conversation with him without it ending in an argument between the two of them. The only time he ever seemed happy to her was when he was around. It was like he flipped on a light switch in him, a light switch that she couldn't reach, no matter how hard she tried. And the questions that had swirled in her mind during his last attitude adjustment came back at full force. But there was one other question that was added to the pile. Why does he make him so happy? She tried not to dwell on the question for too long, fearing she already knew the answer, the one answer that she didn't want to hear.
After a month of touchiness, she was just about ready to break up with him, fed up with him being such a douchebag. Then, suddenly, he apologized, promising he would change back into the real him. He didn't keep his promise. He became spacey again but more…troubled that time around. He looked troubled and conflicted when he was with her, as if something was constantly bothering him when she was around. And that's how he stayed.
She was on the verge on breaking up with him, not wanting to deal with whatever was wrong with him…or her. Maybe she was the problem altogether and should just leave. Maybe that would make him happier. But what if she wasn't the problem? Maybe he was conflicted about asking her something…like to move in…or to marry! Yes, maybe that was it. But the only way she was going to find out what's wrong with him is by going to him.
•-•
He had been waiting for her to confront him about him for a while now. It was bound to happen, since he kept having periodic mood swings since they began fucking. He thought it was kind of sexy because he was the one who was causing them. Otherwise, he would've found them annoying and told him to stop being a little bitch. But, no, they were hot and that's all he to say on the subject. But that's not what she thought.
When she confronted him about it, outright asking him if knew what the source of his mood swings was, he was bewildered by her bluntness. She had never been a straight-to-the-point kind of girl, she was more dabble for a bit too long on the details kind of person and he respected that, liked it even. So he figured she must've been worried sick about him, though there wasn't much to worry about. He would recover, probably, in time, most likely. He didn't think she needed to be as worried as she was and that she was probably just one of those people who overreacts to change. But then again, she didn't know that they were fucking behind her back.
He tried to calm her down, telling her that he was fine and would get better soon, that it was just a funk that he was going through. She smiled weakly at him and agreed half-heartedly, still worried about her love and hoping that he was right, that all of this was just a phase and that's all.
•-•
Weeks pasted and there was still no relief. His detached mood wasn't changing, that was for sure. She watched him closely, observing him and reaching to a conclusion: he was not the man that she had fell in love with two years ago in a club in downtown Sacramento. He wasn't the funny and awkwardly charming guy that laughed at her stupid jokes and brought her to her favorite resturant every other Saturday. He wasn't himself anymore; he was a distant ghost of the man he used to be, lost in the wind. He wasn't hers anymore.
She decided to break up with him because, just like the old saying goes, if you love something, let it go. And that's what she did. She drove over to the house he shared with him and told him that things had changed between them and it just wasn't working. He whole-heartedly agreed, saying he felt exactly the same way and maybe they could be friends. She shook her head sadly and told them that it wasn't the best idea, not until she was completely over him. After that, she stood up from the couch and so did he. They hugged each other tightly and then released after a long while. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and decided that she had to leave at that instant before she broke down.
On her way out, as she pasted him, she gave him a look that meant take care of him. He nodded, was intending on doing that anyway. Then she smiled and closed the door gently behind her, making sure the click was barely audible. The two friends exchanged a look and he tackled him to the ground and had his way with him on the floor of their living room. Just before he came, he said the three little words that he never wanted directed at him, ever. I love you. He pretended that he hadn't heard it and came right after him.
In the morning, he woke up to an empty bed. There was a card on the bedside table. He picked it up and after he read the two words on it, he cried and cursed him at the same time. I'm sorry.
•-•
Dammit, I really hate sad and open endings. Fuck. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little sad piece of shit. =.=" Thanks for reading!