Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2015 02:02:07 +0000 (UTC) From: Gaia Farnese Subject: Sleep Well, William - part III A/N: This part of the story is the reason I stopped updating a while back. Alas, no matter how many times I go over it, I can't find another way. All I can say now is that all the things that happen have a purpose and that it gets better (and hotter) the more they get to know each other. I'm already working on part four so forgive me the short update and expect a longer one soon. Finally, Lana Del Rey's Yayo has been a great source of inspiration and one of the reasons I came back to this story. Please consider giving it a listen. And -- enjoy the read! The clock hasn't even ticked off the first 24 hours and I can hardly believe that this is my life, unfolding like the pilot episode of a series. It may not seem so, but it strikes me just how much has changed since I went out last night. It feels surreal to the point I start considering the possibility that my life is in the hands of a puppet-master, doing all of this to amuse blank faces out of their stupor. But that's creepy so my mind quickly accepts a new idea: it feels a bit like those wild romances you only ever read about – a naïve youngster, a few questionable decisions and a dramatic set of consequences. I attempt to feign nonchalance for the duration of my drive home - an incredibly slow affair if you ask me, asking myself why is it that one remembers all the insignificant details of the least important periods between two versions of hell? ~Perhaps, it's to forget something else,~ my mind quips at me. I reach Briggs unscathed and considerably poorer, even though he gave me plenty to pay for the cab. Of course, I didn't think about the general mess in the traffic and the red lights that seem to distort only to laugh at me; the evil, time-wasting buggers. The preoccupation with the traffic prevents me from thinking about the painting he left all over my neck and shoulders: all visible, and that one which he left inside: hidden away in a dark corner, awaiting a better time to make an appearance. I find Ned at home, watching the telly and absent-mindedly rubbing Fedora's paw. "Wild night, huh?" he asks, and that's when it clicks. But I suppose it's too late to hide now. "Got carried away," I murmur unconvincingly, trying my best to keep calm. Ned, much like my aunt, knows Helen all too well to believe that she would do something of the sort. But then, people can ~and~ do surprise. I am living proof of that. I stand around idly for a bit but "Be careful, Iz," is all that he adds. When I pass by to go and take a shower I fervently hope that I don't reek of male, and sex, something he would undoubtedly recognize right away. It's years later that I discover he knew it all along; knew that I'd been with someone far more assertive than Helen, although he'd had her written off the moment he saw her on the doorstep, looking for me in the early hours of the same afternoon. I don't think I have ever been more grateful for his quiet nature and inclination to keep out of other people's business. I don't feel like talking to Kalla because I know that she will speak to me about things I don't want to hear right now, so I call Marie and ask her how to cover up the scattered bruises. She doesn't ask any questions, but suggests plenty of complicated techniques involving make-up until I end the call, frustrated and sad, and definitely not looking forward to wearing scarves until the purples and pinks recede. Though just before I pronounce it a lost cause, it turns out there is a solution and help comes from the least likely source – Ned himself. I press ice to my extensive mapping while he feeds the cat. I beg him not to tell my aunt and he promises he won't, but asks me to be careful one more time. I go to bed exhausted, both physically and emotionally, refusing to think about anything else other than the day ahead. ~ "Such sweet words, William." Brave, coming from someone who's standing naked in front of him, for him, in the middle of yet another bedroom. ~His bedroom.~ "And what about you?" he shoots back. What about me? "What about me?" "Playing coy, provoking, leading me on, only to leave me cold?" "Seduction is not the same as manipulation," I say in self-defense, belatedly realising just what it is that I'm saying. Not that it makes any sense, but that's what I get for playing a game like this with him. His whole demeanour changes and it's a repeat of the heat I heard in his voice last night in the booth. "Well then, don't we both have the same goal in mind...?" he says more than asks this time, thumb going in circles over my hip. I weight down my options. It's only sex, isn't it? He knows a lot about it and he probably knows a lot about boys new to sex too. I can trust him to show me everything I need to know. It's then that I make the decision to reach out and let him in. It's not that it's too late and I'm already standing naked at the foot of his bed. ~He'll have me then.~ It is I who trapped myself this time around. At least he's got the grace not to ridicule me as I bend my head and give in. He won't let me sulk so he makes me climb on the bed, then joins me. "Come," he says and pats his thighs softly. I feel slightly filthy as I comply, but it excites me. I glance at the side and notice my pale face in the mirror, aligned with his shoulder. It's a bit disconcerting and I think he notices too because he rotates us so that he faces the mirror instead. It's a short work of getting me on his lap and I don't know what to do, but he presses our bodies closer, and my ass parts under his hands. I bite his shoulder when he tries to insert a digit. He seems to get the message but then, as soon as this thought crosses my mind, I feel his cock slip between my cheeks. He rocks us gently and I can hardly focus on anything else, caught up as I am in the moment, expressing my amazement and satisfaction through moans. He doesn't look at me when I look up to find his eyes, needing him to reassure me that it's all right to moan, and sigh, and thoroughly enjoy him debauching me. He eyes the mirror instead. "You should see yourself," he tells me in a whisper. His cock slides slowly, undemanding yet hot. When I follow the path of his eyes I realise that I'm moving with him, cheeks clenching and unclenching to the rhythm he sets. It explains why he's so quiet but I wonder if it's enough for him - if he manages to get enough pleasure out of it. "You can always do more," he whispers in my ear. I kiss him instead of answering. He smiles and rubs noses, then he rubs my cock. I tense up in pleasure and turn once again, to take a look at our reflection, and to focus, like he does, on the hands gripping my bum tightly and that lovely, pierced cock head perking up. "I like this," I whisper against his neck, embarrassed and wanton. "Do you?" comes the breathy answer. "Yesssssss," I reply, just as he fondles the skin behind my balls, then presses down gently. I reach around to give his cock a passing caress. "You're dying for that blowjob, aren't you?" The slow pace of his smile is a contrast to my wild heart beating away madly. "You're dying to give it to me, aren't you?" I kiss him, because I want to and because it's the easiest way to retreat from unknown territory. Before I'm conscious of us moving he has us horizontal, and we manage to tangle ourselves even closer than before. The sliding stops when he grabs my hips and maneuvers me on top. He pulls away from the kiss to gaze at me steadily. There is no question asked better than the one asked through a single look, nor is there a better answer then the one a smile gives away. Thus, there is no desire bigger than the one that follows such an exchange. "I don't really know –" I start, shy smile stretching the lips I'm trying to purse. "You do." "No, you don't unde—" "I understand just fine." "That's not—" "Iszaya. Please. Now." His eyes are raw, and stunning. I forget to close my mouth so he, the perverted bastard that he is, pushes a finger between my slack lips, only to gasp when I shut my mouth around it and suckle gently, tongue drawing a random pattern underneath. His cock twitches against the small of my back and he lets out a delicious sigh that does more to encourage me than anything else before. Taking away his finger, he pushes me down. I close my eyes for a brief moment, overwhelmed with the sudden worry that I'll fuck it up somehow. When I open them, his cock fills my vision, causing a sensory overload because I inhale too, and what I inhale is so very William - a rich, musky scent full of promises. I throw myself into it, grabbing the base of his cock and licking up the length, the same path I traced with my finger less than 12 hours ago. I reach the pierced head and collect it in my mouth, trying my best to keep teeth out of the way, even though his piercing is large enough to bump around in my mouth. I'm kinda afraid I'll start choking if I take more in so I don't push it, and I'm grateful that he possesses an iron self-control. Either that or I'm truly horrible at this. I nuzzle his thigh when he speaks up. "Look at me." I bet he'll tell me to stop and relax or something along those lines. He pulls on my hair and grabs my face, but I keep staring steadfastly at his cock. It's slick and so very big up-close. I breathe over it and my breath fogs up the metal of the piercing. Unable to help myself anymore, I let my forehead press to his stomach, lips an inch away from his straining cock. Holding my breath, I open my mouth to take as much as I can, tracing the edges of the piercing with the tip of my tongue. I try to breathe through my nose and, even though I fail the first few times, I think I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know that he's still watching - he hasn't gone limp, so I suppose I'm passable. Taking a break for more air I kiss and lick the length, pulling a sound from him when I suck a bit more strongly on a string of skin under his piercing. "Mmmhn," I hear and stop immediately. "Please tell me I'm not hurting you." "No, keep doing that." I repeat the suction but he doesn't leave me much space to experiment. Suddenly, he grabs himself in his fist, locking the head in its firm grip. I brave a glance and find him lost in pleasure instead of fixated on me. I understand before I spot the milky droplets leaking from between his fingers, and I'm giddy at the thought that he wouldn't have me choke on it, the gentleman he is. In gratitude, and largely using the opportunity that he's not watching me, I pry his fist open and lick his cock clean. I could do without the taste, but I've a feeling I could get used to it. When I rest my head on this stomach this time, it's with the intention to keep my mouth closed, but he seems to retrieve his wit so he engages me in a playful conversation. "Does your mouth hurt?" "... a bit." "Good." "Was I any good?" "I should think that's obvious." I sigh and kiss the rib under my chin. "You did good. Happy?" "William, you should sing praise to me," I tell him in-between fits of giggles. "After all, you managed to convince me to do it." "... as if you needed much conviction." "Har, har." "Shush." We both go quiet at first but then: "May I try again?" I ask him, in more of a whisper than voice. He fidgets before he answers, which could've turned out funny, hadn't I been so unsure of my mouth. "Now?" "No. No. Just... another time?" "I'd be happy to receive your attentions." "Oh shut it!" "You asked." I nestle closer to him and consider dozing off but he makes a move to stand up. "Nooo! Don't ruin it..." I whine at him. "I'll just go wash my hand." When he returns I'm seated on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window. There's really nothing special out there, but it's better than what I see from my own bed every morning. Out of nowhere, a mug comes into view, making me fight hard (and subsequently lose) to resist snickering. "It must be cold by now, but I seem to recall you wanting it badly," he explains as he hands it over to me, voice light and full of laughter. I take a sip, analyzing the intent behind his quirky little smile, when he asks if I'd like to order lunch. I stare at his face, then his naked form, comparing the thought of lunch with his comfortable nudity. "What, you're not cooking for me?" "Well, I was thinking we can't spoil you so now, can we?" he shoots back, handing me a tee shirt. It's worn and soft, and it smells like him. I smile to the floor before I put it on. We share a moment when he touches my cheek and I look up to him. "Can we play some music?" I ask him quietly. ~ I feel free, more than ever, in that old shirt of William's, dancing around the apartment to ~Feeling Good~. He joins me at one point and we swirl and laugh until we hit the sofa, falling on top of each other. It feels fantastic and more than just a bit comfortable - lying there in William's arms without a thought to spare for the world outside. When the music changes, I sing Lana's ~Yayo~ to him, nearly causing both of us to fall asleep in the following silence, warmed by the comfort and closeness loosely traced by ever-present desire. The doorbell chimes then, and, in an instant, we're both up - previous coziness shattered. A wonderful, rich aroma of Thai food fills the air as he serves our food. Using the fact that he's busy with it, I walk up to him and startle him with a kiss. I kiss him long and hard, to thank him for the food, but halfway through I decide I want to thank him for everything with the same kiss. When he finally moves away it's only to tell me that our meal is getting cold, resuming the kiss himself after we're done sampling the delicacies of the Thai people. As dusk falls rapidly I feel slightly bitter feelings surface. It's one thing to let go and enjoy my time with William, and another to have to forcibly pull myself out of our cocoon. I'm anything but ready to face the reality on the other side of the walls. I wonder if he will ask to see me again. It doesn't make any sense. As limited as my knowledge is, you don't treat people the way he treats me, unless you don't plan on seeing them again. But then, courteousness aside, he's revealed so much to me, almost convincing me that he wants to keep me by his side for as long as possible, if his kisses are anything to go by. Alas, his motives remain unknown for the remainder of the time we spend together. He doesn't initiate another round of sex, nor does he ask to meet up again sometime. With the arrival of the evening I realise that I might be growing bothersome so I go to the bedroom to change back into my clothes. The bed is a messy reminder. Taking off the shirt is quite the ordeal but, by the time I'm done and out of the bedroom, I have already started scoffing at my imbecilic attachment to a piece of cloth. I find William busy, staring at the wall across from him. "Are you going to leave now?" he asks me without as much as looking in my direction. "Well, it doesn't look like you'll be having me a lot longer." "Iszaya, don't be ridiculous." His bitter smile confirms my unvoiced suspicion and I decide that it's time to leave him for good. A brief flicker of hope flares up in my chest when he looks in my direction, but his eyes no longer hold the haziness I'm fond of. It feels like betrayal and still, I have no choice but to accept it as it is. He's not going to offer anything more than this because my time is up. There must be something showing on my face because he tells me to: "Please spare me your histrionics." "Oh my g—I'm tired of your rudeness, William! I'm tired of you and trying to figure out what you want!" "Look who's talking! Last I took a note it was you who started playing games you don't know how to play," he says as he stands up. I'm beyond words yet it vaguely feels like I shouldn't let go right now. "That's enough." I tell him. "I'm leaving!" I get my stuff, trying my best to ignore his "Very well." I don't want to turn and look at him before I leave, but I can't find the key to unlock the door, besides he creeps up behind me on his own. He doesn't look at me until he has both doors open wide, and then he looks only to hand me a few banknotes. I consider punching him but he says "It's for the cab" before I understand enough to raise my fist. His eyes are bright and cold. I give it up, turning around without bothering to say goodbye. I pretend I'm not listening when he closes the doors, hating the fact that he had the presence of a mind to summon a cab. ~End of part three~ Please donate to Nifty.