forthedog: (firelight)
Mike Pinocchio ([personal profile] forthedog) wrote2011-08-15 12:18 am
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Let's not try to figure out everything at once...

It's better. For the first time, it's better and he's sure it's not just wishful thinking, or adjusting to a situation that's just as shitty as it was before.

He's still not good. The morning he and Neil had spent in bed and curled around each other, he hadn't dreamed, but that night he had, and badly. And the night after. Neil touches him, and he still flinches instinctively away most of the time. The thought of going outside for anything--even the smallest task--feels like an exhausting ordeal. At times even getting up to bathe or eat is difficult.

But a few days later, and he's sure it's still better. As he makes his way up the stairs to he apartment, he's sure he feels less tired. Less battered inside.

Again, he's coming back from therapy, but he's feeling cautiously hopeful in addition to sore and tired. Donna had seemed entirely unsurprised when he had broached the subject--sidling around to it with an awkwardness that made him cringe and yet that he couldn't really stop--nodding and moving over to a desk and scribbling a name and a number down on a scrap of paper.

"There," she had said, tossing her long blond ponytail back over her shoulder and handing the paper to him. "Call that number. They'll take good care of you. Promise."

And he had thought that might actually be all she said about it, but as she pointed him back to the mat and his stretches, she had smiled, and it had been faint and warm. "I'm glad you said something," she said quietly. "'Cause I was about to."

Under the embarrassment, he was--and is--grateful. Because people care. They care without prying, without making themselves a nuisance.

Unless they have to. He thinks of Johnny and doesn't quite smile.

He turns the key in the lock, pushes the door open. Maybe it's better, but he's still tired and everything still hurts, and all he wants to do is curl up on the couch and doze.

Once it would have been with a drink. But now part of him--a louder part--is wondering if that might be the best idea.
little_moons: (Default)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-05 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
"In the drawer," I groan, groping blindly toward it, but he'd got me pinned down, and I can't quite reach. "Fuck," I hiss, rocking up against him,

"God, hurry the fuck up."
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-05 04:48 am (UTC)(link)
I go over willingly, eagerly, drawing one knee up, opening myself up as much as I can, knowing that this isn't a guaranteed thing. We need to take what we can, when we can, 'cause tomorrow, he might not be able to stand the thought of me looking at him, let alone touching him.

"Just fuckin' do it. I don't need much." If it hurts, just a little bit, that's fine by me.
little_moons: (Splendor in the Grass)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-06 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
Letting out a stuttering breath, I murmur, "Yeah, me too." I like this, and I always forget to slow down for it, so fuckin' eager to get to the next part that I don't even remember how good it can be.

My eyes fall shut and I arch against him, his lips warm against the nape of my neck and his fingers surprisingly gentle. "I like you touchin' me," I admit, and even though it's nothing we both don't already know, it feels like a confession.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-06 07:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh God... Good," I murmur, 'cause I know it's not an easy thing for him. Thank kind of trust. It's taken weeks of me trying to convince him, and even that little admission feels like a huge fuckin' victory.

"Jesus, Mike... I love you." It still feels strange, saying it out loud, no hesitation, after months of keeping quiet about it.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-07 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
"'Bout fuckin' time," I grin, letting out a strangled moan when he presses in, and it's always fuckin' easy, even when we're moving too fucking fast. If I wanted to be a sappy fuck about it, I'd say we're a perfect fit, and most of the time, it feels like that's true.

Right now, I'm not in any hurry. We always manage to barrel through this, finish before we're even started, but maybe this time we can slow down long enough to fuckin' enjoy it.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-08 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
"Not what I meant," I gasp, panting helplessly and relaxing around him, opening up until the fit is just fuckin' perfect. With him pressed up along my back, warm and solid, I almost don't want him to move. We could just stay like this, just me and him, and none of the shit from the outside could ever touch us.

"'Bout fuckin' time you believed me."
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-08 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
I laugh, and it's an easy, fuckin' happy exhalation of breath, grinning stupidly and arching back against him.

It's a happiness that probably won't last, but even if it's only for these few moments, I feel like that'll tide me over for a while. But now that he's said it, it's like he can't stop. Like he's testing the word out, over and over, to see how it feels on his tongue, and I don't think I was really prepared for how good it was going to feel, just to hear it.
little_moons: (Splendor in the Grass)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-08 06:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"God," I breathe, rumbling out a low laugh and leaning back against his chest. Twisting around so that I can see him over my shoulder, I lift a hand to hook around the back of his neck, my lips smudging against the corner of his mouth.

It's not rough or hurried. There's nothing frantic about it. I'm not even thinking about coming, just yet, and it's fuckin' perfect.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-09 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
"Why the fuck would I stop wanting this?" I ask, genuinely confused, because I can't imagine ever wanting to stop. I can't imagine wanting this from anyone but him.

We never really talked about it, not in so many words, but we managed to stumble into a relationship, and a monogamous one, and the funny thing is, I think I've been okay with that from the start.

I don't want to ever stop this, but more importantly, I don't wanna ever be without him.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-10 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Promises never get kept, but I want to make them. I wanna tell him that this'll last. That neither of us are going anywhere, ever. I want to promise forever, and it's scary and it's amazing and it's too fucking much.

I let out a sobbing moan, and maybe he'll think it's 'cause he just put his hand around my dick, but he'd be wrong.

"Shut up," I whisper instead, and there's an edge of desperation in my voice. Of pleading. Don't talk about that. Don't.
little_moons: (Splendor in the Grass)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-12 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
I let it swallow me up, let myself sink down into it, and it comes on slow and steady and I'm almost positive that it's different than anything else I've ever felt. Which is crazy, maybe, but I'm not used to taking my time with this. Even with him, it always ends up feeling like we're in a rush. Like we don't quite trust we'll have time for anything more.

"Mike," I say with a choked sob, clinging to him wherever I can reach, my other hand grasping at the sheets tangled under us.
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[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-13 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
Huffing out a breathless laugh, I move my hand to cover his where it's wrapped around my dick, grinning against his lips and murmuring, "You really want me to shut up?"

I push back against him, a little harder than before, a sharper moan breaking out from my throat.
little_moons: (Splendor in the Grass)

[personal profile] little_moons 2011-09-14 03:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not gonna get tired of this," I whisper, gasping and swallowing down another desperate wail of a moan. "There's nobody... Oh fuck, never wanted anybody like this."

I don't know how I managed it, all those months without him. How much time I spent thinking about him, even at the beginning when we were hardly more than strangers. And I guess it's stupid to think that was every anything more than lust, but now, looking back, it felt different. I'd wanted plenty of guys, but he was always different.

My lips smudging against his, the kiss clumsy and off-center, I know that I'm still talking. Whispered endearments and broken thoughts, and I guess I'd be embarrassed by it all if I weren't so far gone. Against his lips, I murmur, "You're mine," like I'm telling him, like I've just figured it out myself, like I'm making some kind of fucking claim on him now, as if he weren't already completely fuckin' aware.

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