Snippets of an affair ~ First Words

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (13/?) ~ First Words Author: zahra_owens Beta: namarie120 Rating: R Word Count: 1715 Warnings: Beware of boy-loving, guy on guy, and what's more, they're cheating on their boyfriends. Also angst. In this chapter also loads of fluff ;-) Disclaimer: Persons and events described here may, on the surface, seem familiar, but I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Author's note: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter may not be the 'I' from the previous chapter.

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I love to wake up early in the morning, just to watch the first rays of light creeping through the curtains to play on your skin. We both sleep naked and you have this knack of shedding your covers, so I usually wake up when I get too hot, only to find you next to me on the bed in all your glory. At moments like those, I have a hard time keeping my hands off you and I almost understand how your flyboy's had this terrible need to always have his way with you. Almost. I don't understand how he could hurt you, though, how he could force himself onto you, when it's so easy to turn you into the sex-crazy, pushy, needy guy I met at that wedding. It just takes a little attention, a little look, a smile. It just takes a little kindness.

When you're asleep in my bed, our bed, stretched out on your back, one arm over your head and totally oblivious to this world, I've learned the hard way to wake you gently. You stopped jumping after the first few weeks, but even now, I prefer to just lie here and look at you. Eventually you stir, as if you slowly become conscious of my stare. You stretch out and turn to your side and then, depending on the way you look at me, the rewards can be plenty. Depending on whether I need to go to work or not, the sex can be fast and hard or slow and lazy. Whenever I stop to think about it, I realise I've never had so much sex in my life, not even when I was your age.

It wasn't all smooth sailing, though.

*****

We picked up your things from the apartment on a day when you knew your pilot wouldn't be home and like you'd predicted, you had very few things to pack. I suspect it was hard for you to say goodbye to the apartment you'd lived in for six years though, because you took your time, eventually deciding to take as little as possible, since the last thing you wanted was him making a big scene about how you took things that were his. Three nervous hours later, we put three boxes and a large sports bag of clothes in the car and you closed the door for the last time, leaving your key on the living room table. There was no way back now.

For the first few weeks, I was worried we'd made a mistake. You were nervous and jumpy and at the same time, apparently ecstatically happy, but you got on my nerves. You were so eager to please me and constantly apologising for being such a lousy cook, but the house was spotless, the laundry always done and in bed you predicted my mood every time. Only this wasn't what I wanted and I thought I'd made that clear to you. I don't want a slave, a house boy; I want a friend and a lover, a partner, an equal. Before long, I blew up. I did something I rarely do and raised my voice. I watched you crumble in front of my eyes, flinching at my harsh words and I immediately wished I could take them back. At the same time, I knew things had to change, so I didn't do what my instinct told me to do, which was take you in my arms and apologise.

That was the first time you slept in your own room. The next morning your stare was cold and your body language told me to stay away from you, but I could tell you'd been crying. By noon time I decided to swallow my pride and coax you to the living room so we could talk. It wasn't easy. You didn't understand what you'd done wrong and I tried to explain to you how I no longer recognised the man I'd met a year earlier, but it wasn't easy without hurting your feelings. At first, you thought I was trying to break up with you, but I eventually managed to make myself understood. That day we talked all night right up to the morning and it became all too clear to me what little merit you gave yourself. All I could hope for was that one day, you'd show me a glimpse of that confident young man again, who ruthlessly seduced me and woke me out of the sleeper life I'd been living.

You continued to sleep in your own room until one night I came home quite late from a shoot and went straight to bed, thinking you'd already turned in for the night. I was just falling asleep when I heard the bedroom door open and then close again. I tried not to move when you quietly crawled under the blankets, afraid I'd scare you off again. It took you a long time to eventually start talking and even then, I stayed mum.

"I know you're probably asleep," you whispered, "but I need to tell you anyway. I found a job today. It isn't much, I know. I'm just going to work at Starbuck's around the corner, but like you said, I don't pay rent, so I don't need to make a fortune. I filled in their application and the guy that hired me didn't seem bothered with the fact that I hadn't worked a decent job ever. He explained the coffee machine to me and I made him a cup and he liked it. If there' s one thing I can make it's coffee, right? So I should be able to pull it off. Anyway, I wanted to tell you." And with that you got up from the bed.

I knew I had to say something. "Don't leave."

"You heard me?" you replied, sounding quite scared, but at least you didn't bolt.

"Yes, and I'm really proud of you."

"I was shaking like a leaf when I walked outside afterwards. I did it the way you told me to, though. I walked in and asked for the manager and imagined I had to seduce him, that you'd bet me that I couldn't do it. I guess I was lucky he was a guy."

"You would have blown a female manager's socks off as well, I'm sure," I teased. It was dark in the room so I could barely see you, but I could feel you lying back down and moving closer to me.

"Maybe," you answered, sounding shy.

"You'll make a great barista, I know."

*****

With the job came a whole range of new friends, most of them girls who were barely twenty years old, and a lot of them disappeared again when you told them you had a boyfriend, but a few stayed. From time to time, they took you to the movies and out to bars, but you always came back home to me. Slowly but surely, your confidence grew again and then one day I came home from work and heard you chanting. You'd explained to me what it was supposed to sound like and I couldn't help but smile at the muttered curses and mild expletives thrown in among the Eastern sounding words of the chanted mantra, but at least you were working to become you again.

That night you came back to our bed and we made love for the first time since the argument. I didn't have the nerve to ask you what had changed, I simply enjoyed the fact something had and hoped it would bring us back together.

To this day, you sleep here next to me and I love waking up every morning, knowing you are the man I love.

I've gotten to know you much better these past weeks and it only affirms what I knew that very first time I met you; you complete me. You're my opposite and my complement, but in some ways, it's like looking into a mirror and I find you reacting to certain things in exactly the same way I would. You're much more relaxed now and I've never been so sure of our relationship as I am now.

You stir next to me and roll to your side, pressing your body against mine. There's a lot of bedding between us and I try to extract some of it because I want to feel your heat. Eventually I feel you grind your arousal against my hip.

"I can't believe you're horny again," I whisper gently, remembering why I'm slightly sore.

Yesterday we went to a wedding again. We decided not to go as a couple yet, since we'd each received separate invitations, me from the bride's side and you from the groom's, and because you knew you'd bump into some people who didn't know you were no longer with your pilot. I could tell you were nervous all through the ceremony and the reception, but seeing you with your friends, and seeing them apparently happy you were no longer with him, made me realise we didn't get out enough. At least not as a couple.

At the height of the party, you snuck up behind me.

"They still have black marble in the bathroom here," you whispered in my ear, recalling our second encounter.

"And you're telling me this because...?" I teased.

"I didn't think I needed to spell it out to you," you say, your voice low and your crotch grinding against my ass.

"You want to fuck me in the bathroom?" I asked, not whispering.

"Ssssh! Announce it to the world, will you?"

Less than five minutes later, the door latched, we were in front of the large mirrors, me leaning on the black marble bathroom counter, my dress pants lowered just enough to uncover my ass and you, zipper down and tackle out, fucking my brains out courtesy of the free lube provided by the basket of all things convenient, suitably located at the end of the counter. Not that our first time here wasn't stellar, but this time I enjoyed it even more, because when I looked into the mirror, I saw the man I fell in love with again; confident, cocky and self-assured, but a little bit vulnerable.

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