Take My ***ing Hand

I woke up, and was freezing cold. Brendon was facing away from me, curled up into a ball.

He’s such a stubborn bastard.

He’s probably still pissed of about last night.

Whatever.

I sat up and stretched my arms, accidentally bumping him. He groaned and rolled over.

“Do you always have to get up so fucking early?” he growled.

“I’m fucking hungry.” I said. “And I was cold. Its not my fault.”

He groaned again, and then there was silence, because really, what was there to talk about?

“So what are you planning on doing today exactly? Maybe finding a way out of here?” he somewhat mumbled.

“Oh, I thought I would run around naked a little bit. Then maybe pole dance around a tree.”

He glared at me.

“You’re not funny.” He said.

“Not trying to be.” I replied, bending over to grab a hand full of black berries from our stash.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” he exclaimed, looking seriously fed up and pissed off.

Good.

“I’m the asshole?” I questioned. “You’re the one who wants to fucking get in my pants!” I exclaimed.

I looked at me in disbelief. “How does that make me an asshole? That’s stupid!” he exclaimed.

“You’re right. You’re not an asshole. You’re a fucking whore!” I exclaimed. Now I was getting pissed off. I don’t like being called stupid.

He stood up so he was (somewhat) eyelevel with me, and got close. I could feel the anger and testosterone radiating off of him.

“Whore? I’m the fucking whore? At least I don’t lead people on, with the intention of hurting them. That makes you an all around Bastard. Which is a lot worse.” He nearly whispered in a harsh voice.

“All you care about is sex. Fucking sex. Heaven forbid you should actually listen to me, and understand when I say, I don’t want to have meaningless sex with you. I don’t want to have any kind of sex with you. You just kept pushing, and pushing. And now, I’m just giving you what you deserve. I want nothing to do with you.” I bit back.

He smirked. “That’s a lie.” He said. I cocked an eyebrow. “You want everything to do with me. You want me just as bad as I want you. You just wont admit it to yourself. You like it when I touch you. You liked it when I kissed you. You’re just fucking stubborn.”

My hand clenched into a fist. He was pushing it again.

He put his hand on my chest, and pushed me back up against a tree.

“But then again, so am I.” he whispered.

He then forced his lips onto mine. I tried to push back, but the position I was in made it difficult. He used both hands to hold me back as he moved his lips against mine. The kiss grew less fierce, and more sweet and tender. Why was he doing this?

One of his hands moved from restraining me, to caressing my face. The other hand remained on my chest.
He continued to kiss me sweetly, and my mind just snapped.

It snapped back to the dream I had, the one where he sowed up at my door with a bouquet of roses. Where’s that Brendon? This kiss makes me want that Brendon. I want to fucking hold him and exchange sweet words. I want our first time to be special and romantic, with him telling me that he loves me and that he’ll never leave my side. He’s right. I do want him. I want the sweet innocent him that doesn’t exist. What he’s doing now, is nothing more then a trick. He’s trying to get me to trust him, he’s trying to get me to think that he really can be sweet and caring, when he wants nothing more then sex. Dirty, fucking, one night stand. I’ve fallen in love with the Brendon in my dreams. The one that doesn’t exist. The one that never will. The one that is hinted and expressed in this kiss, and in my dream, as nothing more then a tease to me.

He’s the fucking tease. Not me.

Finally he pulled away, and I had tears streaming down my face. I snapped.

I pushed him off violently, muttering the words “Fucking bastard.” under my breath in a broken voice.

Then I ran off, again, into the forest. Just wanting to escape him.