Chaste
Chaste
“Brian, please.” Annie tugged on the sleeve of Brian’s jacket, too upset to worry about his reaction. “We need to go home.” She expected maybe a harsh tone as he turned to face her, bracing her small frame for his words, but no such viciousness escaped his lips. They were still untouched that night, she knew, as his lipstick had held up too well. His balance gave out for a moment, evident by the small wobble he made as he pointed his index finger at Annie’s face.
“You need a drink,” he said, his voice as playful as the smirk that was on those lips. But Annie shook her head, pulling at his sleeve once more with that same desperate look showing on her face. Sure, he seemed fine now. He probably was. But Annie knew Brian better than his newfound friends at the bar did. She knew how hard it would be to get him home once he had a few more in him. She knew how impossible it would be if he found someone else he’d prefer to go home with. She imagined the horror in those pure green eyes as they fluttered open in the morning to find he was in someone else’s bed, again. She imagined the tears, the shame, the conversations through closed bathroom doors. It was all too familiar. It was all too terrifying to imagine.
Brian stumbled after Annie as she led him out of the club and onto the street where she hoped the cold night air would help sober him up a little. She laughed as she gently pushed Brian away each time his lips fell to her neck, and smiled politely at the things he had to whisper into her ear. He pushed her gently against the wall of a building as they waited at the lights, his lips leaving little red trails across her jawline all the way to the neckline of her dress. But she knew that was all he’d do. She somewhat understood the friendly torment he placed upon her on the odd occasion, and she was happy to leave him be. She knew it wouldn’t need discussing in the morning.
Annie woke as Brian stirred beside her, turning to find his lips itching to overflow with words yet keeping the silence, his expression complex yet expressionless.
“I didn’t..?” She shook her head and watched more words form on his tongue that would only dissolve into his head.
“You’re beating it, Brian. This addiction, or whatever you wanna call it…”
“I’m not addicted to sex,” he defended, looking slightly abashed. Annie was blushing, too, taken aback by his directness. They let the conversation die for a moment as they wriggled around under Brian’s fluffy duvet to find a comfortable place. “It just makes me feel like someone wants me…”
“Brian…” Annie began, but didn’t need to continue.
“I know,” Brian said, a slight smile on his lips. “I know.”
“You need a drink,” he said, his voice as playful as the smirk that was on those lips. But Annie shook her head, pulling at his sleeve once more with that same desperate look showing on her face. Sure, he seemed fine now. He probably was. But Annie knew Brian better than his newfound friends at the bar did. She knew how hard it would be to get him home once he had a few more in him. She knew how impossible it would be if he found someone else he’d prefer to go home with. She imagined the horror in those pure green eyes as they fluttered open in the morning to find he was in someone else’s bed, again. She imagined the tears, the shame, the conversations through closed bathroom doors. It was all too familiar. It was all too terrifying to imagine.
Brian stumbled after Annie as she led him out of the club and onto the street where she hoped the cold night air would help sober him up a little. She laughed as she gently pushed Brian away each time his lips fell to her neck, and smiled politely at the things he had to whisper into her ear. He pushed her gently against the wall of a building as they waited at the lights, his lips leaving little red trails across her jawline all the way to the neckline of her dress. But she knew that was all he’d do. She somewhat understood the friendly torment he placed upon her on the odd occasion, and she was happy to leave him be. She knew it wouldn’t need discussing in the morning.
Annie woke as Brian stirred beside her, turning to find his lips itching to overflow with words yet keeping the silence, his expression complex yet expressionless.
“I didn’t..?” She shook her head and watched more words form on his tongue that would only dissolve into his head.
“You’re beating it, Brian. This addiction, or whatever you wanna call it…”
“I’m not addicted to sex,” he defended, looking slightly abashed. Annie was blushing, too, taken aback by his directness. They let the conversation die for a moment as they wriggled around under Brian’s fluffy duvet to find a comfortable place. “It just makes me feel like someone wants me…”
“Brian…” Annie began, but didn’t need to continue.
“I know,” Brian said, a slight smile on his lips. “I know.”