we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Aw sweet fucking Safrin's cunt, there's no way he doesn't know what he's doing. So much for the innocence you thought he embodied: lad's a proper little minx. At least he isn't looking at you, because the expression that crosses your face can only be described as a sort of comic anguish, exasperation mixing with desire as your mouth draws into a thin line and your eyes roll closed for a moment. Gods give you strength.
What're you supposed to say to that? He probably does, and you won't lie and say you haven't imagined it. Wondered how far the freckles go, if the curtains match the drapes, if his ass is as pert and grabable as his absolutely ridiculous trousers make them look. And if things had been different, if he'd been someone else, you might have taken this golden opportunity to find out the answers to all those questions. You're stoic and jaded, but you're human too, and it's fucking hard to turn down everything being offered.
But all your relationships since El have been no-strings-attached, and something tells you that Sam comes tangled up in a whole mess of different threads.
"Maybe you oughta find out how many of 'em agree." You step back with this statement, running a hand through your hair, suddenly desperate to get away. "Gonna grab a drink," you mutter, turning to walk toward the refreshment table. To find somewhere quiet away from the temptation of sinking into your baser instincts and dragging him down with you. It isn't what he needs. It isn't what you need.
Even if, at this moment, it's exactly what you want.
What're you supposed to say to that? He probably does, and you won't lie and say you haven't imagined it. Wondered how far the freckles go, if the curtains match the drapes, if his ass is as pert and grabable as his absolutely ridiculous trousers make them look. And if things had been different, if he'd been someone else, you might have taken this golden opportunity to find out the answers to all those questions. You're stoic and jaded, but you're human too, and it's fucking hard to turn down everything being offered.
But all your relationships since El have been no-strings-attached, and something tells you that Sam comes tangled up in a whole mess of different threads.
"Maybe you oughta find out how many of 'em agree." You step back with this statement, running a hand through your hair, suddenly desperate to get away. "Gonna grab a drink," you mutter, turning to walk toward the refreshment table. To find somewhere quiet away from the temptation of sinking into your baser instincts and dragging him down with you. It isn't what he needs. It isn't what you need.
Even if, at this moment, it's exactly what you want.
zephyr
