Page 58 of Forever We Fall

“The water went off a while ago.” I manage a bob of my shoulders. “I thought you were long gone.” He shifts toward his door, and I jerk my hand up and palm out. “Not that I want you gone. I just know…You like your space now.”

He takes another step away from me. My heart vibrates with panic.

“And that’s okay.” I ramble just to keep him in my line of sight. “I don’t know how you feel, but I’m still your guy.” I swallow the lump in my throat, and another immediately forms in its place. “In whatever way you need me to be.”

Arlo nods, slips into his room, and quickly closes the door.

I exhale and toss my head back. I want to scream and cry at the ceiling. Instead, I take another cleansing breath, handle my business, and prepare for bed.

Images of Arlo taunt me and not in the way they should.

Tonight, my mind refuses to focus on the sorrow in his features, the scars on his body, or the forlorn gaze that has replaced his hopeful one.

Nope. As I turn off the light and slip into bed, every soft caress of the blanket on my legs is Arlo’s hands on me. Every glimmer of moonlight that streams in highlights his form, ranging over me.

I imagine him bracing a hand on my throat, holding me down, while his tip pokes and prods at my ass. I’ve never let anybody touch me there. I wouldn’t just let Arlo touch me there. I’d let him destroy me.

“Fuck,” I groan quietly.

My hands whip the covers back and shove my boxers down my thighs before I decide to handle the heavy boner that’s been present since I laid eyes on Arlo.

The tip of my dick is wet with precum. I steal it from the top and bring it to that forbidden place, stroking it across the puckered skin. My hips jerk off the bed. I imagine they’re Arlo’s fingers prodding me, toying with that hot entrance. I imagine it is Arlo’s hand wrapped around the base of my dick, stroking up the silky hard length.

“Yes,” I pant softly.

He gathers the wetness dripping from my tip, works it down to my base, and back up again and again. His finger slips inside my body, just a little. It’s enough to send stars shooting across my eyelids.

“Oh please,” I beg.

I want him to plow me. To mark me. To wield his ownership over me like a weapon.

Only, he knows I’m not ready for that. He works his finger inside me gently, exploring the slick channel. His other hand pumps me with easy strokes, not wanting this bliss to end too soon.

Methodically, he breaks me down until I’m nothing but a whimpering mess, ready to explode. Then he adds another finger.

My lower back tingles. My hips arch. My balls draw tight.

Hot streams of cum shoot over my abs and chest. Wave after wave of pleasure pulls me apart, stripping away every worry and pouring euphoria in its place.

I slump back onto the mattress. My chest heaves. Then my eyes open, and I’m as alone as ever.

Of course, I knew it all along, but it’s nice to forget. If only for a moment.

Pissed for jerking off to Arlo, I shove from my bed, wrench my boxers completely off and head for the shower.

No light pours from beneath Arlo’s door. Hopefully, he’s asleep. Soundly.

I turn on the water and get in. I scrub myself too hard, my self-loathing at an all-time high.

Some nights, I wake to Arlo crying. It’s been the hardest part, not being able to comfort him.

I scrub a little harder and let the hot water burn my skin until I can’t take it anymore. Then I force myself out, dry, pull on some boxers, and climb back into bed. My useless brain stares at the ceiling for a long fucking time. As though it has the answer to my conundrum.

Nope.

The only person who can answer my questions is on the other side of that wall he’s determined to keep between us.

I was grateful for the notes under the door every night. I still am. They’re a lifeline. I just expected that lifeline to pull us closer together. Maybe not to a dingy, but at the very least, a hunk of wood we could both fit on.

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