Losing Me

A Wank Wednesday post, under the prompt Utensil.

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Inside the circle of your arms, I beat my fists against your chest. I am upset and angry with you. I have sworn and yelled and called you names. I fucking hate you right now. I have every right to be angry with you, and yet somehow I know that you are going to win this fight.

Yet you say nothing. Why won't you react? Why won't you say something? You hold me silently, taking my frustration and hurt and absorbing it. You do not defend yourself, you do not pander to my temper tantrum. You simply wait until I am spent, sobbing and broken.

You pull me closer to kiss me and I feebly try to stay angry. I melt against you, swinging wildly between frustration that you could hurt me so much, and relief that you are now here, that the hurt is over, even though I know it won't last. My body betrays me by tingling for your touch.

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From "One Last Time Again"

EDIT: I've taken down the excerpt here because I'll be posting the whole story, in block of about 700 words, over the next week or so. Enjoy!

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Encounter

I am standing on the balcony of a hotel room in Bournemouth, looking towards the sea. It is a Friday afternoon in June. The sun is setting, and the hazy sky is alight with red and gold. It's pretty, relaxing in a way I had not expected. Work has been difficult this week, and I am glad to get away for a weekend. Time to forget. Time to forget everything.

There is a rustle behind me and I hear footsteps on the balcony. I start to turn but hands are heavy on my shoulders, a chest is pressed against my back. He drops a soft kiss onto my shoulder. A warm breath tickles my neck.

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