Anonymous

I was having a different dream. This dream. Oh this dream. Words could not describe this dream. So different from the others. It was the middle, the bridge between dream one and dream two. Dream one and a half perhaps? I don’t care to name it any more than I care to retell it. But I think you should know, I think you should know the deep desires that rage throughout my body like a sickness. No. Not a sickness. A craving. A need. A want. An addiction. I needed this from you so bad, but never could I tell you. Oh, what would you say to me if I said…if I said…

I need your body.

No, I need more than your body; I need your soul, you mind, you essence. I need it all in me. In me, like apart of me. I needed us combine.

The dream, the glorious dream. It was too real to be called a dream so lets call it an alternate reality; maybe a premonition. Those words sound better than a dream. Dreams like this are almost impossible to come true.

I saw…you peeling off my clothes. Quick at first, you almost tore my white shirt off me. But once you knew what you wanted- what I needed- you went slow. You laid on top of me, gently so not to crush me under your weight. Cause let’s face it, I’m a midget. You supported your body with your left arm as your right hand unbuttons my jeans. I whimpered under you because the need to feel those hands…oh God I couldn’t. I was like a junkie fixing for his next hit.

You kissed my lips, forcefully…as if to pour your emotion into my body. Your lips moved to my neck where you sucked and bit like a teenage boy. Was I bringing you back to your youth? I hope I was. I moaned when your hand teased me through the fabric of my boxers. I would have bit your cute nose off for being a tease if it wasn’t for the fix you put your tongue in my mouth. Your kiss was amazing…like your were fucking my mouth with it. Okay, bad analogy, but I can’t be as poetic as you. I am sure you would have found a classier way of wording that- but dammit Gerard, not everyone can be as perfectly imperfect as you.

Your tongue massaged mine as your hand slipped under my boxers. Your fingers wrapped themselves around my throbbing manhood. I grabbed your back, opening my mouth to moan but I couldn’t. No sound came out- too many rabid emotions attacking me. You stroked me, oh god. Pings of pleasure gathered in my stomach with every jerk. I felt like a boy during puberty wanted to come right there; so fast because it was all I ever wanted.

I managed to make a noise: a strangled moan that caused you to laugh. You unwrapped your fingers from my member, causing me to shoot you the most evil death glare I could muster up.

You removed yourself from the bed and started taking off your own clothes. First your jacket, slowly the sleeves slipping down your arms…dragging my eyes to your strong biceps- muscles from jumping around onstage. You threw your jacket against the wall and began working on your button down shirt. Slowly and painfully you unbutton those pesky little buttons; dragging out every motion in an effort to torture me.

“Fucker,” I spat, “stop that!”

You laughed louder and discarded your shirt in the same fashion as your jacket. You came back to the bed, hovering on top of me with your pants still on. We stared at each other for a long while- hazel and green mixing together. Though, were my eyes really green? I can’t remember-whatever. We’ll say green cause this was my dream and I have control right? So we were staring, and wondering…if what we were doing was right. Yeah, that would be the thought to flutter through our heads if it were real. Because we were best friends- sex would ruin our relationship, right?

No. No because it wouldn’t sex. No, it would be making love and there’s a difference. We would be creating something beautiful.

Somehow in the process of thinking, we got our pants and boxers off. Now we were staring at each others man hood as if we never seen something like that before. Like “holy shit, that’s what your penis looks like.” By the way, you’re big- nine inches- I love it. ‘Cause fuck what all those chicks say, size does matter.

“You sure?” You asked, “Because there’s no turning back after this.”

I grabbed your neck and pulled you into a sloppy kiss: “Does that answer your fucking question?”

You positioned yourself by my entrance- remember it’s a dream so lube and condoms are not needed- and waited for me to give you another okay. You were persistent in making sure I was prepared for you to enter me. I appreciated it, but it was unneeded. I had wanted you in me since the day I laid eyes on you. Even at your worst, you were still beautiful to me.

You closed your eyes and pushed into me. It was like an earthquake ripping through my body. Painful, but a different pain. Not the kind of pain from slicking my wrist, it was the fluttering pain that ran through my stomach each and every time I saw you. It was that beautiful pain. But how could pain be beautiful? How could beauty and love be painful. Oh I knew why. And with each and every thrust into me, it just got more painful. Horrible and unbearable pain. And not because you didn’t know what you were doing- you know what spot you needed to hit and every time you did, I screamed your name as if it were the only word I knew. You kissed my neck and I dug my nails into your back; dragging down because of the pain erupting in my body…

Pain…pain because this was all a dream. Pain because it was never going to happen…Pain because…you were fucking her…

“Ugh, Gerard!” I shouted when I came all over our sweaty stomachs. You just grunted and spilled your seed into my small body, then collapsing on top of me- spent.

I ran my fingers through your sweaty hair as you breathed against my neck. It was still painful- still ripping through my body. This unrequited love.