Hate Me

We spent most of the day sitting in my room exchanging random facts about each other, which actually passed the time quite efficiently. I learned that besides writing, singing is his passion, and that he’s got quite a beautiful voice to go with his brilliant mind.

“So what would you do if I said I didn’t want you to leave just yet?” I asked, glancing out the windows to look at the stars twinkling brightly away.

“I would say, good. Because I didn’t want to leave yet anyways,” He said, crossing his legs and smiling gently at me, “besides, I still have a lot to learn about you, like your name for instance. What is your name?”

A warm blush spread quickly across my cheeks at the realization that I in fact hadn’t told him my name, and he had been sleeping on my couch.

“Uhm, its Johnny, but you can call me John, if you like. Or hey you would work just as well. I get called that a lot.”

He laughed as he moved to sit very closely by my side. So close, I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and smell my body wash wafting off his skin.

“Well, Johnny” he said, quietly, making my insides knot up at the way my name rolled off his tongue.

Before I could fully process what he was doing, his lips were on mine, softly at first, then once he realized I wasn’t resisting, he became more forceful, tangling his fingers in my hair.

Oh, I like this feeling

I gingerly place my fingers on his cheek before pulling away.

“What’s the matter? Did I overstep my bounds?” He asked a look of hurt flashing across his exquisite features.

“No, I just- I guess I wasn’t really expecting that. I’ve never really kissed a guy before,”

His features relax and he smiles widely before letting out a small giggle. Slower this time, he kisses me once again, this time running his tongue along my lower lip.

Immediately, my skin starts tingling and it’s like fireworks bursting all over my skin everywhere he touches. Down my arms, on my neck, up my shirt. It’s such an exquisite feeling. Having his fingers adventure over my chest and stomach while his tongue explores my mouth. Unable to control myself any longer, I let out a groan.

“Sounds to me like you enjoy kissing boys,” he mutters against my lips.

Growing more and more desperate to be as close to him as humanly possible, I pull his shirt off of his skinny frame and run my fingers down his baby soft skin. Patiently, he sits back on his heel, and watches my hands travel on his skin with a hungry look in his eyes.

All of a sudden, I feel self-conscious of my own body. No way is it anywhere near as perfect as his. I have imperfections. Little round scars from chicken pox as a kid that never quite healed all the way as well as other small mishaps from my childhood. Nothing major, but not flawless either.

“We have to stop,” I say, surprising myself at my sudden change in mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“I barely- we barely know each other, it’s been what. A couple of days?”

He laughs and reaches for his shirt, pulling It back over his head, “That is a good point there, although, if you knew everything about me, you’d probably change your mind about having me in your house altogether,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs and stands up, smoothing his shirt out with a nervous look lacing his features.
“You really want to know?”

I nodded, and he began to tell me the story of where he’s been; of what he’s been through every day for who knows how long until some random stranger found him in an alley, and invited him into his apartment.