Status: Complete.
Just Keep Breaking This Promise of Forever
Just Keep Breaking This Promise of Forever
I can smell it. The stench of someone else. He's worn this cologne so many nights, I've lost count. But he's still beautiful. He's an image of perfection and a product of luck. He'll charm the fucking daylights out of anyone, and not give it a second thought. He knows exactly what he does to each and every life he enters, but that's never stopped him from getting what he wanted.
That's never stopped him from fucking who he's wanted.
And I put up with it. Why? Why do I subject myself to such heartbreak? The answer is simple. He's my everything. My morning and the hours that follow. My only upside; my rotten angel. I couldn't go a day without him if I tried. I'm a fucking wreck unless he's by my side, and he knows it. He takes pride in this fact. And he mentions it every time I threaten to leave.
"Mikey?" he calls as he's stumbling through the door. It's 1 a.m. and I can smell the booze on his breath from the other side of the house. The sweat, and sexual energy, and more sweat is oozing from his pores. He needs a bath, and fast.
"Yeah, baby?" I answer. As I've always answered before. He adapts to the quiet environment; probably shockingly different from the club's setting he's just returned from.
"I'm home. Where's the party?" he jokes. I take a moment to inspect how drunk he is and heave a sigh of relief when I find that he's safe on his feet.
"Seems to me you just came home from it." I answer back. I'd love for my voice to be cold. To border on frigid and make him feel remorse for the sins he's committed. I want him to hate himself; hurt himself for the things he's done. But at the same time, I'd give up my own life to ensure his safety.
"Ha-fucking-ha." he slurs. We exchange 'pleasantries' before he eagerly heads for the shower. I'm left to stand in the midst of the odor he's left behind. I try to hold my breath, but the fragrance of those men, and their bedrooms, seeps into my mouth and I'm forced to picture it. To picture him. Legs spread, back arched. I can see the cute way he curls his lips up into a smile, and harshly squeezes his eyes shut. I can see their tongues tracing his freckles and leaving whorish patterns on his skin.
He does this to torment me. To completely take away the little bit of sanity I have left. But I'd rather him do all of this, and still come home to me.
"Are you tired, yet?" Frank asks me once he's returned from the bathroom. His sopping wet hair has been towel-rubbed and I can practically taste his body wash.
"No, not really. You?" I ask with interest. He grins and shakes his head in a way that flashes the most obvious of warning signs. He licks his lips, nipping his piercing in the process. I long to have that lip ring between my teeth. To tug the metal and never let go. Maybe that'll keep him here. One can only dream.
I gulp down my anxiety. This is my time, now. I have his attention, and for the moment, we belong to each other.
"So, what do you wanna do?" I ask, daring him with my eyes to answer with anything but an inappropriate response.
"Not sure. We could always... play a game?" he says with a smile. I give him a disapproving glance and he begins to laugh that beautiful chirp I'm so afraid will one day crack.
"Well, don't get upset. I'm sure there are other options." he says as he waltzes over to the bed, hand tightly clasped onto the towel around his waist.
It's like this every time. He teases and plays, and I'm left wanting so much more. I'm left wanting the romance that should be here; the magic moment and the passion that travels along with it. I'll never have the will to change him, though. He'll always live his way.
"Like what?" I play along. Seduction coats the walls and for a moment, I get caught up in the fame. It feels nice to have all eyes on me. It's my brief instance to live in this fantasy world, and I'll be damned if I don't play my part justice.
"Oh, I'll let you figure that out. But I'm not too mean. Here, lemme give you a hint." he whispers. I eye his hand intensely and enjoy the show as he slowly pulls the dampened fabric away from his prized possession.
Frank's groin is exposed; his skin still slippery and gleaming from the shower he's just taken. I meet his eyes and a number of unsaid things are established.
I should be mad. I should hit him, and hate him for what he's putting me through. He shouldn't be able to obtain forgiveness so easily. But I'm weak. I'm a stupid little sinner; a wuss. He'll always have me as his own, and I try to collect as much satisfaction from that as I possibly can.
"Fucking tease." I whisper between clinched teeth as his filthy hands tug and rub at his cock. What was once deflated is now coming to life, and I get the sudden urge to touch him. To make him feel so good and watch as he writhes in a pleasure he can only find with me.
"Come and stop me, then." his cocky smirk making the phrase just that much better. I lose the need for hesitation, and lunch at him, pulling him by his arms down onto the bed. His body falls with a thump, and I quickly take my place on top of him where I belong.
"Oh, Mikey. Fuckin' make me scream." he begs. I don't have to be asked twice, as I attach my lips firmly onto his, causing my pulse to pick up considerably. His moans of appreciation fuel my desire to take things further, and before too long I'm fighting the raw need to completely assault him with my tongue.
"Mm hmm, baby. Do that again." Frank asks me with a whimper. I dart my tongue over his exposed chest and allow it to trail down to his stomach. I can feel his muscles clench and taste the cleanliness of his skin. I enjoy every sound he utters, and when the friction between our bodies has intensified unbearably, I decide it would be best to lose some clothes.
Frank's hands eagerly fly up to the hem of my shirt, and together we create one less boundary. His fingers make quick to unhook my belt, and I help slide the leather out of my pant loops.
"Ugh, Frankie. Quit, that. You're gonna make me lose it." I say with a shudder as his palm rests right on top of my need. The warmth of his hand provides the perfect form of bliss, and I'm nearly content with letting nature run its course as he firmly cups my covered length.
In a sudden wave of lucidity, I slap his hand away from my crotch and unfasten my pants the rest of the way. He tucks his skilled fingers inside of my waist band and helps me pull them off with ease.
"I want you, Mikey. Give me what I want." Frank pleads. His child-like energy is the perfect counter of my desire to take things slowly. I give in and get to work, allowing my hands to explore every bit of his skin. His flesh is burning hot and tenses at the lightest of touches. I receive a sick form of satisfaction as I listen to those pained groans. Knowing how ready he's become is a turn-on, and I decide to cave for the sake of keeping the night pleasant.
"Oh, OH!" Frank yells; his hips bucking up and his back bending perfectly as I take his cock in-hand and start to work up a comfortable rhythm. My boxers cling tightly in the front, and I wish like nothing else that I could make them disappear without a major effort.
"Here, just let me." Frank snaps. He reaches in and pulls me out, stroking me to full arousal as I do the same to him. We're both crying out; pathetically whining the other's name into the air around us. When I decide I can't take it anymore, I shrug off my last layer of clothing and moan in approval as my heated skin fuses to his.
He's pretty. So pretty, it hurts. I want to take a picture of how dreadfully radiant he is, and keep it on my person at all times. His lust-glazed eyes make the effort of looking into mine, and I nod. I'll give him what he wants; and he'll thank me in the way he knows best.
My hand trails down to his thighs. I lightly tickle the soft skin I wish to latch my teeth onto, before plunging a finger into his heat. His eyes open wide and his free-hand latches onto the sheets that are pooled around us. I watch his face for any signs of discomfort and when I find that my search is in vain, I add another digit.
"So-so fucking good, Mikey. You make me feel amazing." he whispers breathlessly. I'm left frozen at how simply gorgeous he is. I want him all to myself; for the faces that he makes to be seen by myself alone.
I lean down to kiss what little pain he has away. His mouth tastes of toothpaste and I inhale every pant he utters. When I feel the time is right, I move my fingers steadily inside and loosen the natural tightness to the best of my ability. His hand leaves the sheets and rests firmly on my shoulder, grabbing -and in some cases, clawing- at his own free will.
"G-God, Mikey. Mikey, right there. Keep going!" he mewls. I realize I've struck that golden spot; that one area that makes every painful intrusion worth-while. My speed increases and I tilt my head back, just taking in how very willing he is- and how much I'm in love with this fact.
"I'm ready, oh God! Hurry, baby." Frank cries. I'm unable to provide him with a coherent response, and instead utilize all of this pent-up anger to my advantage.
I scoot back a bit, and shove his legs apart. His cock standing straight and begging to be touched. His heavy breathing indicates how far gone he is already, and I decide that if I'm going to get anything out of this, I'd better hurry.
"Now!" he begs. Without any further preparation, I position myself at his entrance. His eyes are pleading, and searing right into the soft thoughts of my mind; turning them into violent ash and re-birthing them as something ferocious and hardened.
I lose all consideration for his comfort, and choose to act by feeling alone. I nudge in slowly, finding myself in pre-occupied awe at how this remarkably feels like home. After I find my way in, I push until Frank's gasps bring me back to reality. His forehead is wrinkled in discomfort, and I pay further attention to the throbbing of his walls as they reject the unapologetic penetration.
"Don't stop, Mikey. D-don't quit." Frank says, his voice tinged with pain and excitement. He gulps down mouthfuls of air as if the supply will be cut soon, and braces himself for what we both know is going to happen next.
After reaching as far as I can go, I allow him a moment to adjust. The feeling is incredible, though, and before he's ready I find myself pulling out and pounding forward in a nearly fluid motion. The warmth and overall comfort provided by his need acts as incentive to continue, and after noticing his wordless nod, I decide to carry on.
"Fuck, baby. You're so tight. I don't think I'll be able to -Uh, huhh- wait much longer." I groan into the crease between his neck and shoulder. The sweat collecting on his chest triggers a laugh as it dawns on me that he'll have to take another shower.
"Faster. Oh, go faster!" he whines. I appease him without warning, and started forcefully ramming with all that I have.
"Ahh, M-Mikey, right there. Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" Frank warns. Knowing how quickly time is fleeting, I grab hold of his neglected erection and start jerking him off sloppily and with aggression. My own orgasm fastly approaching, causing my concentration to become weaker than usual.
"Uhn, ooh..." Frank says as his balled up hand relaxes and wraps itself around the backside of my neck. With three more thrusts, I trigger an absolute fit from Frank, causing his entire body to jerk in sheer excitement. His muscles flex, and with a cry he comes all over my stomach and hand.
His panting body serves as a tool while I take advantage of his beautiful contractions. I can't help but repeat his name as the climax I've worked so hard for washes over me and causes me to release everything I have into Frank's waiting heat.
My joints feel sore, and I could cry from the burning in my legs and arms, but it was all worth it when I can look at Frank's spent face and see that haunting smile one more time.
I lean down and kiss his lips as softly as I can, before pulling out and away, and turning on my side to lie against him. My arms instinctively wrap around his frame, and I breathe in the atmosphere we've created.
I can taste the anger and homemade ecstasy in the air, and I bring my face in close to marvel in the fact that he no longer smells like them. He reeks of me, and the romanticism I eagerly give up every time I'm able to create this moment. It's my sweat running down his body, and the buzz of my brain playing in the room.
For however short a time, we were part of something priceless. A unique sculpture that was shatterproof and resilient. We could take on anything, and remain strong and sure.
But this is all just a mean trick of my mind. We will never have that movie-quality moment, where vows would be exchanged, and kisses would overflow. It's never been part of our future to live and die as a perfect couple. And as I think on these things, I'm more confused than ever before.
Because it isn't always my face he pictures in his mind, and it's definitely not my number he's failed to wash from his hand. But it is my breath that's hitting his cheek, and it's the chest which contains my splintered heart that his head is resting on.
That's never stopped him from fucking who he's wanted.
And I put up with it. Why? Why do I subject myself to such heartbreak? The answer is simple. He's my everything. My morning and the hours that follow. My only upside; my rotten angel. I couldn't go a day without him if I tried. I'm a fucking wreck unless he's by my side, and he knows it. He takes pride in this fact. And he mentions it every time I threaten to leave.
"Mikey?" he calls as he's stumbling through the door. It's 1 a.m. and I can smell the booze on his breath from the other side of the house. The sweat, and sexual energy, and more sweat is oozing from his pores. He needs a bath, and fast.
"Yeah, baby?" I answer. As I've always answered before. He adapts to the quiet environment; probably shockingly different from the club's setting he's just returned from.
"I'm home. Where's the party?" he jokes. I take a moment to inspect how drunk he is and heave a sigh of relief when I find that he's safe on his feet.
"Seems to me you just came home from it." I answer back. I'd love for my voice to be cold. To border on frigid and make him feel remorse for the sins he's committed. I want him to hate himself; hurt himself for the things he's done. But at the same time, I'd give up my own life to ensure his safety.
"Ha-fucking-ha." he slurs. We exchange 'pleasantries' before he eagerly heads for the shower. I'm left to stand in the midst of the odor he's left behind. I try to hold my breath, but the fragrance of those men, and their bedrooms, seeps into my mouth and I'm forced to picture it. To picture him. Legs spread, back arched. I can see the cute way he curls his lips up into a smile, and harshly squeezes his eyes shut. I can see their tongues tracing his freckles and leaving whorish patterns on his skin.
He does this to torment me. To completely take away the little bit of sanity I have left. But I'd rather him do all of this, and still come home to me.
"Are you tired, yet?" Frank asks me once he's returned from the bathroom. His sopping wet hair has been towel-rubbed and I can practically taste his body wash.
"No, not really. You?" I ask with interest. He grins and shakes his head in a way that flashes the most obvious of warning signs. He licks his lips, nipping his piercing in the process. I long to have that lip ring between my teeth. To tug the metal and never let go. Maybe that'll keep him here. One can only dream.
I gulp down my anxiety. This is my time, now. I have his attention, and for the moment, we belong to each other.
"So, what do you wanna do?" I ask, daring him with my eyes to answer with anything but an inappropriate response.
"Not sure. We could always... play a game?" he says with a smile. I give him a disapproving glance and he begins to laugh that beautiful chirp I'm so afraid will one day crack.
"Well, don't get upset. I'm sure there are other options." he says as he waltzes over to the bed, hand tightly clasped onto the towel around his waist.
It's like this every time. He teases and plays, and I'm left wanting so much more. I'm left wanting the romance that should be here; the magic moment and the passion that travels along with it. I'll never have the will to change him, though. He'll always live his way.
"Like what?" I play along. Seduction coats the walls and for a moment, I get caught up in the fame. It feels nice to have all eyes on me. It's my brief instance to live in this fantasy world, and I'll be damned if I don't play my part justice.
"Oh, I'll let you figure that out. But I'm not too mean. Here, lemme give you a hint." he whispers. I eye his hand intensely and enjoy the show as he slowly pulls the dampened fabric away from his prized possession.
Frank's groin is exposed; his skin still slippery and gleaming from the shower he's just taken. I meet his eyes and a number of unsaid things are established.
I should be mad. I should hit him, and hate him for what he's putting me through. He shouldn't be able to obtain forgiveness so easily. But I'm weak. I'm a stupid little sinner; a wuss. He'll always have me as his own, and I try to collect as much satisfaction from that as I possibly can.
"Fucking tease." I whisper between clinched teeth as his filthy hands tug and rub at his cock. What was once deflated is now coming to life, and I get the sudden urge to touch him. To make him feel so good and watch as he writhes in a pleasure he can only find with me.
"Come and stop me, then." his cocky smirk making the phrase just that much better. I lose the need for hesitation, and lunch at him, pulling him by his arms down onto the bed. His body falls with a thump, and I quickly take my place on top of him where I belong.
"Oh, Mikey. Fuckin' make me scream." he begs. I don't have to be asked twice, as I attach my lips firmly onto his, causing my pulse to pick up considerably. His moans of appreciation fuel my desire to take things further, and before too long I'm fighting the raw need to completely assault him with my tongue.
"Mm hmm, baby. Do that again." Frank asks me with a whimper. I dart my tongue over his exposed chest and allow it to trail down to his stomach. I can feel his muscles clench and taste the cleanliness of his skin. I enjoy every sound he utters, and when the friction between our bodies has intensified unbearably, I decide it would be best to lose some clothes.
Frank's hands eagerly fly up to the hem of my shirt, and together we create one less boundary. His fingers make quick to unhook my belt, and I help slide the leather out of my pant loops.
"Ugh, Frankie. Quit, that. You're gonna make me lose it." I say with a shudder as his palm rests right on top of my need. The warmth of his hand provides the perfect form of bliss, and I'm nearly content with letting nature run its course as he firmly cups my covered length.
In a sudden wave of lucidity, I slap his hand away from my crotch and unfasten my pants the rest of the way. He tucks his skilled fingers inside of my waist band and helps me pull them off with ease.
"I want you, Mikey. Give me what I want." Frank pleads. His child-like energy is the perfect counter of my desire to take things slowly. I give in and get to work, allowing my hands to explore every bit of his skin. His flesh is burning hot and tenses at the lightest of touches. I receive a sick form of satisfaction as I listen to those pained groans. Knowing how ready he's become is a turn-on, and I decide to cave for the sake of keeping the night pleasant.
"Oh, OH!" Frank yells; his hips bucking up and his back bending perfectly as I take his cock in-hand and start to work up a comfortable rhythm. My boxers cling tightly in the front, and I wish like nothing else that I could make them disappear without a major effort.
"Here, just let me." Frank snaps. He reaches in and pulls me out, stroking me to full arousal as I do the same to him. We're both crying out; pathetically whining the other's name into the air around us. When I decide I can't take it anymore, I shrug off my last layer of clothing and moan in approval as my heated skin fuses to his.
He's pretty. So pretty, it hurts. I want to take a picture of how dreadfully radiant he is, and keep it on my person at all times. His lust-glazed eyes make the effort of looking into mine, and I nod. I'll give him what he wants; and he'll thank me in the way he knows best.
My hand trails down to his thighs. I lightly tickle the soft skin I wish to latch my teeth onto, before plunging a finger into his heat. His eyes open wide and his free-hand latches onto the sheets that are pooled around us. I watch his face for any signs of discomfort and when I find that my search is in vain, I add another digit.
"So-so fucking good, Mikey. You make me feel amazing." he whispers breathlessly. I'm left frozen at how simply gorgeous he is. I want him all to myself; for the faces that he makes to be seen by myself alone.
I lean down to kiss what little pain he has away. His mouth tastes of toothpaste and I inhale every pant he utters. When I feel the time is right, I move my fingers steadily inside and loosen the natural tightness to the best of my ability. His hand leaves the sheets and rests firmly on my shoulder, grabbing -and in some cases, clawing- at his own free will.
"G-God, Mikey. Mikey, right there. Keep going!" he mewls. I realize I've struck that golden spot; that one area that makes every painful intrusion worth-while. My speed increases and I tilt my head back, just taking in how very willing he is- and how much I'm in love with this fact.
"I'm ready, oh God! Hurry, baby." Frank cries. I'm unable to provide him with a coherent response, and instead utilize all of this pent-up anger to my advantage.
I scoot back a bit, and shove his legs apart. His cock standing straight and begging to be touched. His heavy breathing indicates how far gone he is already, and I decide that if I'm going to get anything out of this, I'd better hurry.
"Now!" he begs. Without any further preparation, I position myself at his entrance. His eyes are pleading, and searing right into the soft thoughts of my mind; turning them into violent ash and re-birthing them as something ferocious and hardened.
I lose all consideration for his comfort, and choose to act by feeling alone. I nudge in slowly, finding myself in pre-occupied awe at how this remarkably feels like home. After I find my way in, I push until Frank's gasps bring me back to reality. His forehead is wrinkled in discomfort, and I pay further attention to the throbbing of his walls as they reject the unapologetic penetration.
"Don't stop, Mikey. D-don't quit." Frank says, his voice tinged with pain and excitement. He gulps down mouthfuls of air as if the supply will be cut soon, and braces himself for what we both know is going to happen next.
After reaching as far as I can go, I allow him a moment to adjust. The feeling is incredible, though, and before he's ready I find myself pulling out and pounding forward in a nearly fluid motion. The warmth and overall comfort provided by his need acts as incentive to continue, and after noticing his wordless nod, I decide to carry on.
"Fuck, baby. You're so tight. I don't think I'll be able to -Uh, huhh- wait much longer." I groan into the crease between his neck and shoulder. The sweat collecting on his chest triggers a laugh as it dawns on me that he'll have to take another shower.
"Faster. Oh, go faster!" he whines. I appease him without warning, and started forcefully ramming with all that I have.
"Ahh, M-Mikey, right there. Oh, God, I'm gonna cum!" Frank warns. Knowing how quickly time is fleeting, I grab hold of his neglected erection and start jerking him off sloppily and with aggression. My own orgasm fastly approaching, causing my concentration to become weaker than usual.
"Uhn, ooh..." Frank says as his balled up hand relaxes and wraps itself around the backside of my neck. With three more thrusts, I trigger an absolute fit from Frank, causing his entire body to jerk in sheer excitement. His muscles flex, and with a cry he comes all over my stomach and hand.
His panting body serves as a tool while I take advantage of his beautiful contractions. I can't help but repeat his name as the climax I've worked so hard for washes over me and causes me to release everything I have into Frank's waiting heat.
My joints feel sore, and I could cry from the burning in my legs and arms, but it was all worth it when I can look at Frank's spent face and see that haunting smile one more time.
I lean down and kiss his lips as softly as I can, before pulling out and away, and turning on my side to lie against him. My arms instinctively wrap around his frame, and I breathe in the atmosphere we've created.
I can taste the anger and homemade ecstasy in the air, and I bring my face in close to marvel in the fact that he no longer smells like them. He reeks of me, and the romanticism I eagerly give up every time I'm able to create this moment. It's my sweat running down his body, and the buzz of my brain playing in the room.
For however short a time, we were part of something priceless. A unique sculpture that was shatterproof and resilient. We could take on anything, and remain strong and sure.
But this is all just a mean trick of my mind. We will never have that movie-quality moment, where vows would be exchanged, and kisses would overflow. It's never been part of our future to live and die as a perfect couple. And as I think on these things, I'm more confused than ever before.
Because it isn't always my face he pictures in his mind, and it's definitely not my number he's failed to wash from his hand. But it is my breath that's hitting his cheek, and it's the chest which contains my splintered heart that his head is resting on.