Fiction

Fiction.

We sat alone and waited until we were sure that no one would come for us. We had been absolutely sure that some one would come and lock us up for what we'd done. Any onc once we were sure we stood and walked to the window. The moon was so low in the sky- it was almost orange. Bats swooped across the window and gave the whole place a very Halloween-ish feeling. It was incredibly romantic.

"What do you want me to do for you."

"Lie down."

He never spoke loudly, for no matter how sure we were that we were alone, he was worried. I guess that was just the way he was brought up, poor baby. Wait, him, a poor baby? I don't think so. I was the one laying beneath him. Arms willingly tied above my head, begging to be taken again. I was so damn lonely I had to resort to this. I deserved better, but I wouldn't get it, so I just let him have me. Why not? It felt so good. I need to stop this thinking thing...it makes it oddly unenjoyable. I'll just forget the situation for now, let it go on like some dirty fairy tale, some pornographic work of fiction.

He tears me in half. He pushes his cock in farther than it was meant to go, and the blood starts flowing onto the stone floor. We're both too good to soil our bed sheets with this obscene sexual mess, so we sneak off to forbidden rooms to leave our mark where no one bothers to look.

"Please. I'll do anything." That's all I'm allowed to say. That, and "I LOVE YOU!" I always scream that when he touches me, or pounds against some sensitive spot deep inside. I love you. Those are the most sacred words you can ever tell a person, and yet it means nothing when I say it. Just words so that he can feel good, and I can feel good. I think. Maybe I do love him. Now that I think of it, I feel some obligation towards him. He and I have been lovers since we started here. Fuck! That's five years. How can you not love someone that has been loyal to you for five whole years? I know it's just screwing, but maybe I really do love him. "I love you more than anyone in the entire world." I whimper as I come for the first time in our relationship. But it can't be true. It would have been more than this if we were in love. It's still unreal

The moon is still so low in the sky. The orange beams creep through the moldy windows in the small dusty room on the third floor and reflected on the sweat drops that had formed all over his nude, blushing form. He leaned down and set his soft lips to mine. I returned, how couldn't I? He had never kissed me. He lifted off and whispered gently into my ear. " I love you too. I always will."

He came. I cried. And he fell on top of me and cried with me.

"Why do we do this?" He whimpers.

"Because it's good for us."

"But I love you."

"I love you too, but it's not real. It can't be."

"I can be better, we can be better."

"No we can't. "

I got up. I hurt him for the first time. It was usually just the opposite. It made no sense. He would leave me to cry, and though he cried, so did I. It hurt me too. I didn't want to hurt him, but it would destroy us to be a fiction, so we won't be. He can fuck me, but it's nothing more than that. I'm his whore, that's fine, because being his lover would kill us. I know I said we were in love, but we weren't. It's all some disgusting fairytale. It's rotten.

But good god I love him.