Lies for the Liars
II
Frank’s face was twisted into a sick grin as his newfound lover held him close.
It was a one-night stand, nothing more.
And yet…. It was somehow everything.
Frank was a self-described manwhore. Openly and proudly, he admitted his love of cheap sex and no regrets.
Never ashamed. Never heart-broken.
This man was no different. He had no power over Frank.
Frank was in control for once. No longer was he a vulnerable 13-year-old boy, willing to do anything to avoid his secret being exposed. No longer would he feel the shame and the guilt brought on by tear-filled sessions in a high school bathroom stall. He was the user, not the used.
Never hurt. Never alone.
How could this man be any different? How could he use words to crack the armor Frank had spent so many years building? How could this be more than physical attraction?
Never afraid. Never again.
No, not again. I swore, never again.
Pacing the room, creating a distance.
This was more than bodies. More than skin on skin.
No control.
This was exactly what Frank had always feared.
“Frank, baby, come back to bed,” the older man cooed from across the room, his voice flowing through the air to reach Frank as he stared out the window.
Frank turned around, studying the shape under the bed sheets. There he was, the man who was trying to wring the dominance from him and leave him to bleed….
A sexy smirk, a shake of his hips, and he was back to what he did best.
Never the used. Always the user.
Somehow…. It just wasn’t the same.
It was a one-night stand, nothing more.
And yet…. It was somehow everything.
Frank was a self-described manwhore. Openly and proudly, he admitted his love of cheap sex and no regrets.
Never ashamed. Never heart-broken.
This man was no different. He had no power over Frank.
Frank was in control for once. No longer was he a vulnerable 13-year-old boy, willing to do anything to avoid his secret being exposed. No longer would he feel the shame and the guilt brought on by tear-filled sessions in a high school bathroom stall. He was the user, not the used.
Never hurt. Never alone.
How could this man be any different? How could he use words to crack the armor Frank had spent so many years building? How could this be more than physical attraction?
Never afraid. Never again.
No, not again. I swore, never again.
Pacing the room, creating a distance.
This was more than bodies. More than skin on skin.
No control.
This was exactly what Frank had always feared.
“Frank, baby, come back to bed,” the older man cooed from across the room, his voice flowing through the air to reach Frank as he stared out the window.
Frank turned around, studying the shape under the bed sheets. There he was, the man who was trying to wring the dominance from him and leave him to bleed….
A sexy smirk, a shake of his hips, and he was back to what he did best.
Never the used. Always the user.
Somehow…. It just wasn’t the same.