Fiction is Not Life

Harry eagerly turned the next page, while he sat on his couch in the dimly lit room. He was already on the third book of the series and couldn’t seem to detach himself from it. He had become so consumed with the story that there were times where he actually forgot he had a life outside of those books.

Ginny stopped in the doorway of the room, watching her husband turn another page. She sighed to herself, knowing she would be yet again sleeping alone in their bed. It had been a few days since they had been in bed together, and probably a little over a month since they were last intimate with each other. Those books were starting to put some stress on their relationship and she had no idea how to fix it, or if she could fix it.

Harry never looked up from his book, even though he could feel her stares directed at him. He knew what she was thinking and sadly, he couldn’t really blame her. He knew he had a problem, but he just didn’t want to face it yet. At least, not until he finished the story. He was excited to know the fourth and final book was already in the works, craving more from his favorite author, Balaur Night.

My body suddenly froze, hearing the distinctive voice that had always captivated me through the years. The voice was soft and sweet, bringing chills up my spine. I licked my lips and turned around, seeing sparkling green eyes stare up at me. Those eyes were an open book to me, showing me every emotion, every thought, in that moment.

I swallowed, feeling my throat very dry. I tried to turn away, but those eyes continued to bore into me, leaving me motionless. I suddenly noticed a gentle hand reach out to caress my cheek. I closed my eyes, feeling the soft touch glide over my skin, making me become weak. My knees began to shake as the hand continued to graze my face.

I wanted it for so long; I wanted him for so long. I opened my eyes once more, smiling at the man in front of me. While keeping his hand on my cheek, he returned the smile, moving in closer to me. My knees were not the only things shaking anymore. My whole body trembled when I realized his lips were coming to rest on mine. I closed my eyes and leaned in, wanting to meet him halfway.

Our lips touched and it was magic. I had never understood people’s references to fireworks and bottle rockets during a kiss, but in that one sweet moment, I understood everything. The nighttime sky lit up, as rockets after rockets soared through the air. He was mine. Finally mine. Oh how I longed for Henry so much.

Harry licked his lips, feeling his arousal harden below while he turned the next page. The author really did have a way with words. The images were so descriptive, the characters, so in depth. It was as if those things were really happening to Balaur and the man wanted to capture every moment of it on paper.

He suddenly became a bit jealous, knowing it was pretty silly to think that way. He couldn’t truly be jealous of the author, could he? They were just characters. It wasn’t as if Balaur was kissing Henry, or that he was even Daniel, for that matter.

He smiled at the picture of Daniel in his mind, remembering several dreams he’d had about him. He had fallen in love with him after the first book, wishing he were the one to show him real love. He didn’t understand it, either. He had never thought of a man in that way before, but for some strange reason, his attraction to Daniel was undeniable. He then laughed to himself, realizing how crazy he was. He was in love with a character from a book. Daniel wasn’t even real.

Oh, but if he was, Harry mused to himself, suddenly smiling when the picture of a shirtless, clean-shaven, blond haired man named Daniel, entered his mind.

*****
Harry yawned and opened his eyes, groaning when he looked around and realized where he was. He had fallen asleep on the couch again, the book resting on his chest, opened to the page he had last read. He wiped his eyes and gave another yawn before picking up the book and skimming the last part to remind him where he had left off.

He suddenly blushed and looked down at his pants, seeing the irrefutable dried-up wet mark he knew he would have created in his sleep after reading that. He quickly grabbed his wand off the coffee table and cleaned it up, guiltily looking around the room, thankful it was vacant.

He looked at the page again and licked his lips, rereading the last few paragraphs.

Henry had me pinned to the bed, his hand firmly holding my wrists above my head. I was at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to me and I knew I would succumb to his wishes. I didn’t care about power; I cared only about him. If he wanted me, he had me.

I had always been in control with my lovers, but with Henry it was different. I needed him to control me, wanting to please him in every way possible. My body shivered when he grazed his finger down my cheek and smiled his beautiful smile. I would honestly do anything for this man.

He leaned down and kissed my already swollen lips, making my body melt more beneath him. He then backed away and released my wrists, softly ordering me not to move them from their position. He moved his hands toward my shirt and began unbuttoning it, his intense stare never leaving me. I was his.

Harry felt his cock begin to harden, seeing the picture of the two men on the bed in his head. Realizing it was early and Ginny was probably still sleeping, he quickly unbuttoned his pants and reached inside, firmly grabbing his cock and pulling it out.

He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, stroking himself slowly, wanting the image to play a little longer in his mind. He bit on his lower lip and moaned, visualizing himself on top of the blond, pretending he was Henry.

“Oh yes,” Harry then groaned, picking up his speed. “Daniel,” he whispered, imagining it was Daniel’s hand moving over his cock instead of his own. “Fuck, don’t stop Daniel,” he continued, arching his back a little. “I’m so hard for you,” he gasped, his orgasm starting to near. “Make me come. Fuck, make me come.”

Harry thrust his hips up, his cock reaching its end, and he came all over his hand in a hushed cry. He was panting heavily, his eyes still closed, drained from the climax.

After a few silent minutes, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at his flaccid cock and blushed, tucking it back into his pants. He quickly placed his bookmark in the book and closed it, deciding it would be best to stop reading it for a while. This obsession of his was driving him crazy and he knew that he really needed to step back from that imaginary world and focus on the real one, the combination too hazardous.