SMUT WARNING: 18+ readers only; this blog is dark and full of terrors!
(DO NOT READ ON! SEXY THINGS AHEAD! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!)
It's starting to get dark when I awaken. The clock reads 20:00. I'm momentarily confused and then it floods back; "Winter, I love you, I love you!"
Winter... I roll over, my hands searching for him sleepily, but the sheets are empty and cold. I jolt up and look around. Where is Winter?
His clothes are gone; his jeans, his sweater, his sneakers. He's left me.
My heart overwhelms with despair... hurts... it hurts. I look around the room for a note of why he left, but there's no evidence he was even here in the first place other than the lingering ache of dry penetration and some stains on the bedsheets. I dart out of the bed, the coldness of the lonely room hitting my naked body, and grab my phone. Nothing. No messages.
I want to cry.
I start pulling my clothes on slowly, trying to stop the tears falling. He just left me...
Why am I getting so upset? Is it because I told him... I told him I love him. But then he held me. He held me until I fell asleep, and placed soft kisses on my back...
I resist the urge to text him. I shouldn't have to. I didn't do anything wrong.
As I sit on my bed, the quiet of the house filling the slowly darkening room, a film of stillness hangs in the air. There's the faintest smell of food cooking and my stomach replies with a rumble; Maddie must be cooking. My body is hungry but I don't want to eat. It feels wrong to eat without him after...
All summer, that's what we did. For six weeks, we'd wreck our bodies together with sex then build them back up together with food, whether it was sharing a packet of Ramen at his house, or eating a full brisket roast dinner at mine. We'd cuddle into each other, watch a movie, then start over again. All summer, five days a week, we were together.
How could I do all those things and claim it was nothing? All that time, I barely thought of Allan and Satou; only when they texted or called me, which was rare, and usually brief. But I hadn't cared. I only wanted to be with Winter.
But as soon as school started, it felt wrong to carry on. I couldn't tell Christian; I didn't know how he'd react given his stance on cheating boyfriends. I couldn't continue lying to him. But I was lying to myself. Winter wasn't just for summer... and now he's gone, and I feel so empty without him.
My phone bleeps, indicating a text. I open my messages eagerly, but with disappointment.
Chris: There's a party tonight at Andrei's house. I'm coming over to get you, whether you like it or not! x
I roll my eyes. The last thing I really want to do right now is go to a party, especially at Andrei's, but I know what Chris is like. He really won't take no for an answer.
*
Christian shows up just as I'm drying my hair. He sits down on the naked bed. He's looking very chic; a long, form-fitting black sweater and very tight black jeans, with his infamous Goth boots. His eyeliner also looks particularly on point. I wonder who all this effort is for.
"Babe, you could at least cheer up!" he says after I turn the blow dryer off. "You still hungover?" He goes to squish my face with heavily jewelled fingers, his nails painted purple to match his hair.
"I'm fine, okay?" I grumble, pushing his hand out of the way. "Just stop pawing at me."
"Just hurry up, it's nearly half nine!"
"Do we really have to go?" I stand in front of my open wardrobe, contemplating what would be appropriate to wear. "I don't feel like drinking again."
"Haha!" He points at me. "You're hilarious!" He looks pretty serious. "Wear the red sweater I got you for your birthday. And those ripped up jeans you love so much."
Who needs a girlfriend when you've got Christian dictating what you wear.
After we force a bottle of red wine down our throats, we head out to the party. It's only a ten-minute walk, but it feels forever. I keep having flashbacks of last night. I feel very uncomfortable.
We arrive at Andrei's house a little before ten, and more than a little tipsy. We can hear the music and loud drunken teenagers all down the driveway, but when we enter, Andrei is nowhere to be seen. There's a lot of people who were in the year above us but are now either at college or wasting their youth on their parents' couches. I don't really know anyone, but everyone seems to know Chris. He's immediately greeted by a short pink-haired guy with a lot of piercings. I don't pay attention to their conversation and instead, I start swigging from my bottle of Russian Standard. It burns as it trickles down my throat. Vodka probably wasn't the wisest choice.
Minutes pass. An hour? Who knows. Everything is pretty blurry. Christian is playing beer pong in the lounge, and I'm getting chatted up by a girl who I'm pretty sure I've met before but I can't place her. She seems to know me, though, so I feign drunken interest until I get really bored and excuse myself.
I need to pee.
Where the hell is the bathroom in this place? I find the stairs, and climb them with some difficulty, swaying from side to side, desperately clinging to the bannister as the walls sink in and out of my vision. I left my bottle of vodka with that girl. But that doesn't matter right now.
The upstairs is significantly quieter than the floor below. There's a lot of rooms, plus another set of stairs leading to the second floor, but I see a door at the end of the hall that is open slightly with light seeping through the gap, and I instantly forget about my bladder's needs.
I creep towards the room. As I get closer, I can hear quiet voices.
"Andrei, don't..."
"Come on. Why else would you come up here?"
"Seriously, I --"
"See, you like it..."
"Hnnnhh..."
The voice that isn't Andrei's sounds familiar, and I immediately think of Christian. What the hell is Christian doing with Andrei?!
I'm right at the door now.
A sigh. "Andrei... we... shouldn't be --"
"Shh, baby. No one is gonna catch us --"
Suddenly, a loud voice behind me. "Yan, what the hell are you doing?"
I turn. Purple hair, Goth boots. I squint at him. "Chris?"
Then... who's with Andrei?
The door is opening beside me. I turn.
"Yan, what are you doing here?"
I focus. I blink. This isn't real. This isn't happening. I feel a thump in my heart as an invisible knife stabs me in the chest.
Winter tries to say something, but I'm already grabbing Chris' arm and dragging him down the stairs.
"What is going on with --"
"We're leaving."
I'm still horribly drunk and everything is fuzzy and I feel sick and hurt and oh my God.
I'm pulling Christian through my front door and up my stairs.
"What is wrong with you, Yan?" he asks breathlessly. I can tell he's rather drunk too. "What happened?"
I let my breathing regulate as I fall on the bed. "Nothing."
"Nothing? You dragged me away from a party, at a hundred miles an hour for nothing?"
Emotion wells in my chest. I feel completely broken. I crawl under the covers, still dressed, still with my shoes on. Chris is fumbling on the floor with his stupid boots again, as the room spins around us. Then he's pulling off the covers and trying to take my shoes off.
"How drunk are you right now..." he grumbles.
I picture Winter in my head, his face when he saw me at the door, the sound of his voice. I'm so filled with hate that it hurts.
Christian pulls me upright, trying to undress me. I stare at him with unfocused eyes, and I feel so angry.
"You're like a giant drunk baby right now, you know that?" His voice is scolding.
And then I'm kissing him.
I'm kissing Christian. I feel his tongue bar, his soft lips, his hands suddenly in my hair.
He pulls away, his eyes sleepy with... is it lust? Or is he just really drunk? "Yan, what are you doing..?" he whispers softly.
I stare at his lips, his perfect little pouty mouth. I'm so angry. "Just kiss me."
And he does. His lips are wet and pleasant, and I feel aroused just from his tongue touching mine. His hands are all over my shirtless body, and I pull at his sweater urgently.
And then we're both undressed, and he's behind me, cuddling me like how I do to him, but he's inside, and thrusting into me expertly. I can't help but writhe into him. I can feel every inch of him as he pushes himself slowly deeper. He's so big... I grip the sheets and moan into the pillow as he strokes me, biting on my shoulder hard but it feels good. It feels so good...
I hear Christian's voice, gasping and amorous. "Yan, I really like you..."
I'm too drunk for the words to sink in. "Just fuck me... harder..."
He flips me onto my front and pounds on me from behind. I cry out, not caring who hears. I can feel his tip touching the sweet spot with every grind, bringing tears to my eyes. His breathing becomes more ragged as he pushes harder, and I can feel myself getting closer very quickly.
The climax is intense and sudden, my fingers clawing at my pillow, Chris' hands caressing my hips as he comes inside me.
We lie apart from each other, our breath heavy with post-sex regret.
What did we just do?
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