This Elevator Only Goes Up to Ten

After my shower, I went straight to my mirror. I grabbed my eyeliner and frantically put some on. I smiled at myself in the mirror and laughed. I looked like myself. And smelled like myself. I ran a hand through my hair. I decided to not brush it, go for the messy look. I would end up regreting it later, but it would be worth it. I walked into my closet and grabbed a Green Day shirt. I was trying to find my favorite pair of skinny jeans when the door rang. I grabbed the closest pair and put it on. They weren't my favorite, but they would have to do. I answered the door to find none other than Frank. I smiled at him.

He looked me over, taking in the me I normally was. "Wow," he said. "I like it. You look hot."

I looked at his shirt, noticing it was the same as mine. Great minds think alike. "I like your shirt," I pointed out.

He laughed. "I like yours too." He shifted his feet nervously. "I need to go to school and see what homework I've missed. So I'll see you later."

"Oh, okay. Have fun with that."

"Oh yeah, I love being called a fag everyday and I also loved getting shoved. It's so fun." Frank rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I kissed him passionately on the lips. He kissed back for a second before he pushed me away.

"School."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Get going." I slapped his ass when he turned, and watched it as he walked down the stairs. I sighed and walked back in my place.

I sat on the couch and turned on the television. I couldn't find anything so I turned it off and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I looked at the clock. I had slept for ten hours. Frank had to be home by now.

I sat up, stretched, straightened my shirt and walked over. It was convienent that his place was right across from mine. I knocked three times and waited. He opened the door.

"Hey, what's up?" Frank said. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which made me let out a groan of pleasure.

Frank slipped his fingers through me pant loops and pulled me inside. He set me down on his couch and kissed me. I helped him take off my shirt and he worked on my pants. I kissed his neck.

"Bed," I muttered into his neck. "Now."

We made our way, quickly, to his bedroom, where he shut the door. I didn't see why, more privacy I guess. I took my pants off and Frank's. Our breathing had gotten heavier and I pressed myself harder against him. He turned me over and slid my boxers off with a swift motion. I heard him take his off and after a moment he was inside me. Right away it had felt better than the time we did it in the elevator. This time, it was in a bed, Frank was on top, and it felt more romantic. Frank was a better lover then me, I knew that right away.

"Oh, Frank," I moaned. I could feel myself reaching an orgasm. "Frank, fuck, Frank. FRANK." I bit my lip as hard as could. I screamed when I felt him touch my prostate. I felt ashamed as I felt myself come, I don't know why. Frank's thrusts became slower and I felt my eyes closing. Frank laid next to me and I turned to face him. I rubbed his chest, tracing the couple of tattoos he had. I watched his chest rise and fall, his eyes flicker open and close, his tongue licking his lips. He watched me watching him.

He ran a hand through my hair. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered.

I blinked. No one had called me that before. Ever. "And you're gorgeous."

He smiled. "I can't believe you're in my life. I love you so much." He kissed my nose. "And I never want to let you go."

I thought about it for a moment, and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he meant it. "I love you too. And maybe we can be together forever."

"I hope we can be. I really do. And I'm glad the age difference doesn't matter to you."

And those were the last words Frank said before he drifted off into sleep, snuggled in my arms.