"Well... looks like we wasted a few minutes with that. How much time we got left, Boss?"
My eyes slid over to Faith, whose voice was as nonchalant as could possibly expected, given what had just occured in the restroom. I could tell, though, that the casualness was at least partly feigned. Faith knew just as well as I did that there was a strange and confusing dynamic tying us together, and I doubted either of us knew very well how to handle it.
Smarter people than we were-- the kind of person I thought I was supposed to be-- would have distanced themselves from that dynamic. I should just be her Watcher, her tutor, sometimes her guardian and possibly her friend. I should never have done anything or allowed anything to happen that would go beyond those bounds.
I nodded and opened my eyes finally, trying to fucking move in my seat but wincing slightly everytime my ass touched it. "Well... looks like we missed the in-flight movie. Hope I get my peanuts, at least."
"How're you feeling?"
Oh, fuck you, asshole. How the fuck do you think I'm feeling? Confused, bruised, like everything's all gone to hell and back. Bet he was getting hard again just watching me squirm in my seat trying to find a way to sit that didn't hurt...
"Saw you watching me in the mirror, Wes," I said instead, not looking at him. If I looked at him, it'd be over, and we both fucking knew that. I couldn't lie, couldn't fucking hide from him somehow when I looked at him.
"You got off on it. On me." I paused. "On me... cryingI wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about that. Hurt? Pissed-off? Turned-on? I think I was a little of all of it... but I didn't wanna tell him that. No fucking way... make him talk to me, first for a change
( ... )
Faith wouldn't look at me, and my immediate reaction was actually split. A part of me scoffed at the idea, wondering just how it could be so hard to look a person in the face who five minutes ago you were begging to put his cock in your ass.
But another part of me understood. It was never simple between us. Never just about sex or just about guilt or just about pain. It was always everything all at once. All of ourselves, constantly shifting between connecting and conflicting, often both at once.
"Saw you watching me in the mirror, Wes... You got off on it. On me... On me... crying."Her voice was even, careful, and quiet. I had no idea how to take the words, whether they were angry or hurt or confused. They simply sounded like a statement of fact, and it was a fact we both knew as the truth. That much was clear, at least
( ... )
Had a feeling he wasn't looking at me, either, but I wasn't about to turn around and fucking check. So I waited... seemed like forever before he answered me.
"I did."
I nodded. "I know," I replied, not accusing or nothing, just saying. Guess I sorta wanted to hear the why part of it all, though.
"It was beautiful. Because... because it was really you."
I frowned and turned to finally look at him, and thank fucking God he wasn't looking back. "What?" Beautiful? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I'm beautiful when he hurts me? I was stupid and vulnerable and shit, and he got off on me being the damsel for him?
"I'm not making any sense."
"No, Wes, you're not," I said, trying to figure him out - but that was something I figured would never happen in a million years. "Look, I'm... I'm not sure even what happened there, ok? Yeah, I got off on it all too, so don't go beating yourself up over it." Which was probably what he was doing right fcking now anywaysI ran a hand through my hair to smooth it all out. Still probably looked
( ... )
Comments 7
My eyes slid over to Faith, whose voice was as nonchalant as could possibly expected, given what had just occured in the restroom. I could tell, though, that the casualness was at least partly feigned. Faith knew just as well as I did that there was a strange and confusing dynamic tying us together, and I doubted either of us knew very well how to handle it.
Smarter people than we were-- the kind of person I thought I was supposed to be-- would have distanced themselves from that dynamic. I should just be her Watcher, her tutor, sometimes her guardian and possibly her friend. I should never have done anything or allowed anything to happen that would go beyond those bounds.
I should have known better ( ... )
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I nodded and opened my eyes finally, trying to fucking move in my seat but wincing slightly everytime my ass touched it. "Well... looks like we missed the in-flight movie. Hope I get my peanuts, at least."
"How're you feeling?"
Oh, fuck you, asshole. How the fuck do you think I'm feeling? Confused, bruised, like everything's all gone to hell and back. Bet he was getting hard again just watching me squirm in my seat trying to find a way to sit that didn't hurt...
"Saw you watching me in the mirror, Wes," I said instead, not looking at him. If I looked at him, it'd be over, and we both fucking knew that. I couldn't lie, couldn't fucking hide from him somehow when I looked at him.
"You got off on it. On me." I paused. "On me... cryingI wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel about that. Hurt? Pissed-off? Turned-on? I think I was a little of all of it... but I didn't wanna tell him that. No fucking way... make him talk to me, first for a change ( ... )
Reply
But another part of me understood. It was never simple between us. Never just about sex or just about guilt or just about pain. It was always everything all at once. All of ourselves, constantly shifting between connecting and conflicting, often both at once.
"Saw you watching me in the mirror, Wes... You got off on it. On me... On me... crying."Her voice was even, careful, and quiet. I had no idea how to take the words, whether they were angry or hurt or confused. They simply sounded like a statement of fact, and it was a fact we both knew as the truth. That much was clear, at least ( ... )
Reply
"I did."
I nodded. "I know," I replied, not accusing or nothing, just saying. Guess I sorta wanted to hear the why part of it all, though.
"It was beautiful. Because... because it was really you."
I frowned and turned to finally look at him, and thank fucking God he wasn't looking back. "What?" Beautiful? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I'm beautiful when he hurts me? I was stupid and vulnerable and shit, and he got off on me being the damsel for him?
"I'm not making any sense."
"No, Wes, you're not," I said, trying to figure him out - but that was something I figured would never happen in a million years. "Look, I'm... I'm not sure even what happened there, ok? Yeah, I got off on it all too, so don't go beating yourself up over it." Which was probably what he was doing right fcking now anywaysI ran a hand through my hair to smooth it all out. Still probably looked ( ... )
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