The medical trials have begun and I must say I don't like the way it is turning out. I am becoming extremely aggressive and apathetic. It pains me when I lash out in front of Foster.
I don't want to take these damn pills anymore. I am causing more harm with them then I was without them. Yesterday I let Dexter out to see how the drugs were effecting him...the result was not in the least bit pleasant. I didn't think he would hurt Foster. But I was wrong and I will suffer through whatever punishment Foster sees fit.
I knocked quietly on Foster's door.
"Foster?" I whispered.
"Gabriel, now's not the time."
He opened the door a crack so I could understand what he was mumbling.
"I-I'm sorry."
"I know, I just...I just need some time."
"Please. Don't leave me."
"I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to."
"Do you?"
He opened the door a little wider. His body battered and bruised.
An all too familiar feeling of shame coursed through me.
"I love you Gabriel, and I don't ever want to leave you, but right now I just need some time alone."
I placed my hands gently on his bruised face and looked in his eyes, "I will leave you alone because I care about you and I want you to be happy. With or without me."
I turned around to return to my apartment.
"No, don't, don't leave. Stay here with me." He opened the door for me to come in. I just stood there, puzzled by his display of, well, trust.
"You gonna come in or what?"
I entered. Still baffled by the level of trust he was allowing me.
"You...you mean you aren't going to punish me?"
"What?? Punish you?"
"Well, I-"
"I'm not going to punish you." He said sternly.
I continued to argue my case. "But I have caused you harm."
"I'll be fine." I ran my fingers thoughtfully along his bite marks, scratch marks, cuts, and bruises, looking at the floor. There was no way I didn't deserve to be punished.
"No. You won't be. I won't be."
"I know you're sorry, ."
"That's not enough. I'm not enough." I looked frustratedly at the door, taking a moment to contemplate escaping this, escaping everything, the weird feelings, thoughts, dreams, situations, everything.
"Why don't you think you're good enough?" He didn't give me time to respond before continuing, "I love you." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Our lips were almost touching when he spoke again, "You're staying."
I backed away from him, ramming into the side table. "No. I cannot stay here. The blow to your head must have clouded your better judgement."
"Gabriel," he rested his hands on my face, forcing me to maintain eye contact, "I want you to stay."
"Why?" My eyes focused on a stain in the otherwise blue carpet.
He grabbed my hands. "Because I need you."
"I need to be punished for what I have done to you," I said guiltily, "Without punishment there is no line between good and evil." I moved briskly towards the door.
He pushed me clear of the path to the doorway. "You're not going anywhere."
"I...I ccan't stay."
"You can and you will."
I pushed Dexter out.
"Gabriel?!" Dexter was surprised to see that I had taken him out of his safe haven. Hahaha! That little bitch can fight his own battles.
"Dexter?" Foster was equally surprised.
"I...I am sorry Foster. I'm sorry for everything...it was a mistake to come in." He practically flew out the door.
"Dexter come back! Dexter?!" He rushed out the door after his fleeing victim.
Dexter closed the door and locked it swiftly behind him. He drug me to the surface. I already regretted giving Foster a key.
"I'm coming in Gabriel!" He shouted from the hallway.
"Please don't. I don't want to hurt you anymore." I stumbled around trying to regain my balance.
"Gabriel, it was an accident, accidents happen."
"No it wasn't...I did it on purpose. I'm a freak!!!" I tripped over an abandoned shoe. The rage was boiling in me now.
"I don't think so."
I regained my composure before stating, quite plainly, "I will kill you."
That got his attention. "What?!"
"I don't want to though, so go away!"
"Are you going to be okay?" His voice was flowing with concern and that made me extremely frustrated.
"Not unless you go away, okay? I need you to leave, Foster. Leave me, forever. I'm better off being alone." I don't honestly believe a word of what I just said. Many health professionals have said that people of my instability are better off alone, but I don't believe it...I don't want to believe it.
"Why?! What's going on? Are you hurt? Should I call the hospital?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that. I..." I fought back the tears that were gathering in my eyes as I crawled across the floor into what I assumed was the bedroom. "I can't see you."
"I'm coming in." He hurriedly unlocked the door, bursted into the living room, searching frantically for any sign of me.
"Where are you?? Are you okay?"
I leaned bodily against the wall, I had lost all the energy required to crawl.
"I'm...ka the...in our bedroom." I couldn't keep it together any longer, I burst into tears. I wanted to kick myself for saying 'our'.
He settled down beside me on the floor, placing my hand in his. Then he whispered, quiet and intimate, "Are you ok?"
"N-no." I retracted my hand and rubbed my eye.
He nuzzled in my hair. "What happened?"
"I-I don't know."
"Can you see anything, anything at all?"
"You....you're dead."
"I'm dead??"
"It's my fault. It's all my fault." Another flood of tears flowed freely through my unwilling eyes, burying my face in my hands. "I did it."
"What did you do?" He whispered into my hair.
"I'm the reason you're dead."
"Gabriel, I'm not dead, I'm right here."
"But I can't see you. You're dead."
"Gabriel, I'm not dead, I'm perfectly fine."
"LIAR!" I screamed. "All you do is lie to me! You aren't real!!" I scrambled across the floor, escaping his reach. "You're dead!! I killed you!!!!"
"Gabriel, it's going to be ok." He sat beside me again, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You just need to calm down."
"NO!!!" I pushed his arm roughly away from me. "You aren't real! You're a liar!! You're dead!! I! KILLED!!! YOU!!!!!" I screamed as loud as I could, not stopping to catch my breath. I curled up on the floor, shaking violently.
"Shhhhh...it's okay, I'm not dead." He wrapped his arms tightly around me, rubbing my back in a circular motion, "It's alright, everything's going to be alright."
I leaned into the contact, resting my head on his shoulder. "I...mm...sssss....orowy." I said quietly (and rather incoherently) into his chest.
He rested his head on mine, breathing long shuddering breathes into my hair, "I know."
"I don't w-want to kill you again." I breathed heavily.
"Shhhhh...it's okay. You aren't going to kill me. I'm fine."
I stayed there, gathering the strength necessary to respond.
"N-nno. You're not 'fine'. You're dead!" I shoved him maliciously away from me, his body slammed against the bed. The shaking that had nearly ceased returned in fearful shudders.
I stood up, making my way to the door, leaning against the frame. "You are dead." My voice was barely a whisper. "I killed you."
"Gabriel..." He whimpered.
I turned to face him. "What do you want now??"
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah and I'm sick. What else is new?"
Gabriel.
April 22, 2013
I've never told anyone this
We were lying curled together on top of my bed, neither of us having the forethought to remove off the covers before we made love and both of us lacking the energy to attempt it in the afterglow.
"Gabriel?" He murmured, pulling me from my wandering thoughts.
"Hmm?" I was too relaxed to be more coherent than that. I nuzzled my face against his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss there as he tangled our limbs together.
Running my hands up and down Foster's back in a soothing motion that would have put him to sleep if there hadn't been a kind of significance to his query. "Why are you afraid of me leaving?"
I blinked up at him. "Huh?" was the brilliant, eloquent response I came up with.
"Why did you talk about me leaving you? I don't ever want to leave."
"It's not important right now." I leaned in, kissing him lightly.
He pulled back so we could see each other. "I'm not convinced."
I squirmed, I did not want to have this particular conversation at the moment. "It's really not an issue-"
"Gabriel." He cut me off with gentle reprimand in his voice, one hand splaying over my head.
"Seriously, Foster, it's not-"
"Gabriel," He repeated, tilting my head up so we were eye to eye.
"It's not something I talk about."
I moved my fingers over Foster's face in that quiet, exploratory way of mine. I traced his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyebrow. I drug my fingers along the side of his face, curling around the nape of his neck, moving so our lips were almost touching when I murmured, "I will share you."
I regained my composure. "Are you aware of my other self?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Your other self?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. I do not usually allow him to come out but at times he can be...he can be a bit persistent." I stared at my hands again.
"Do you..." I gathered my energy before speaking again. "Do you wish to meet him?"
He looked at me awhile longer as if settling a war in his mind. The war had gone in favor of me switching.
My expression devoid of any emotion as I let my other self free.
"Gabriel?" He tilted his head.
"Nope. Guess again." Dexter teased.
He didn't put any thought into it.
"Gabriel?"
“It’s my turn,” Dexter's voice was quiet, filled with hurt.
"Your turn?" Foster returned.
“You’ve already skipped me twice,” Dexter snarled, fighting him off.
“You hurt him.” It was my voice; Dexter had retreated, pushing his protector out. "I’m the only one allowed to hurt him."
“Gabriel, bring him back, please, I need to talk to him. We need to sort this out.”
"His name is Dexter." I said, switching back.
Dexter is a screaming wreck, desperate to be abused.
"It's my turn now." Dexter said quietly, still feeling hurt.
Dexter hesitated for a moment and then pushed himself into a kiss, he always kissed more shyly than I did.
"My turn now?"
“I don’t know, is it?” Foster slid his fingers gently inside Dexter, he moaned a little and arched his spine, wanting to be taken. “You ready?"
“I’m ready to be fucked. Please. Please.”
Foster licked his tongue up Dexter's throat, he nipped delicately along his jawbone, enjoying the way it made him squirm. Dexter was gasping, little whimpering cries, trying to force his way further down onto Foster’s fingers.
“Foster, stop teasing me, please, I want it.”
“What do you want?”
“You inside me, I want you to fuck me. Please Foster, please.”
“You sure that’s what you want?” Foster teased.
“Yes. That’s what I want, that’s all I want. Please.”
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“If you don’t want me stop tormenting me.” Dexter stopped squirming suddenly, he was on the verge of tears.
“I want you. Just because I enjoy having such a sexy man begging me to fuck him, doesn’t mean I don’t want him. The opposite in fact, it’s insanely good for my ego. Is Gabriel gone?” Foster kissed him tenderly, worrying a little about his mental state (I would be too).
“Yeah, he’s gone. He knows I like it rough. Don’t tease me any more, I want you, please…”
Foster pulled his fingers clear, and coated his cock with lube. Dexter would let him fuck him dry if he wanted. As long as you avoided certain things Dexter was prepared to take a surprising amount of damage. He enjoyed a surprising amount of damage.
He pushed against Dexter's sphincter, it took a bit of force to get past. Dexter wailed and pushed down against him. Foster gripped his pelvis and yanked him into his crotch, hard. Dexter opened up, taking his cock whole in one movement.
"OW! That hurts!" I screamed in pain.
"Gabriel, either fuck off or quit complaining!" Dexter shouted back.
“I thought you said he was gone.” Foster said, nipping Dexter's collarbone gently with his teeth, trying to hide his shock at Dexter's outburst.
“He is now…” Dexter let his head loll, offering his throat for more bites, a lot happier now that he was full. He started to writhe a little on Foster's erection, grinding his own cock against Foster's belly.
Dexter smiled, making Foster feel warm inside, it always made him happy to see my shy smile. Foster started to ease out of Dexter's body, watching his face carefully. Dexter flinched a little, but when Foster tried to keep the stroke slow he growled and jabbed Foster's back. Foster yelped and bucked, slamming into him full force. Dexter cried out with satisfaction, tried to work his way further down onto Foster's cock.
"I’m not him; don’t treat me like a china doll. You know what I like. You said I could have whatever I wanted."
Foster bit him, a hard bite to the chest, above his left nipple. It was savage enough to draw blood. Dexter moaned soundlessly.
"YES."
Foster sucked the flesh, bursting capillaries beneath the skin, leaving a dark red patch over an inch across. Dexter loved to be bruised and marked, feel possessed and be left with a physical reminder of that possession. He’s so unlike me, we're like Jekyll and Hyde. He wailed and wrapped his arms around Foster's shoulders, arching his back.
"YES, I want. Fuck me hard, make me feel it. Please. Please. Please."
Foster grabbed his hips and slammed into him, running gentle bites up that long pale throat. He pulled completely out and forced himself in again. Dexter crooned and mewled, hungering for the sensation. Wrapping his legs around Foster's bucking ass, he tried to position himself so Foster could get deeper, fuck him harder, more completely. Foster got a rhythm going and Dexter clung to him, arching and gasping.
When Foster was doing this Dexter could forget the world, forget the mess he’d put himself in, forget me. Forget everything except the fact that Foster wanted him. Foster liked him enough to do this to him. He was good enough for something; he didn’t have to be more. Somebody other than me gave a shit. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on the sensation of the cock moving inside him, the pain had lessened. Now it was just the slow burn, it felt so good, so right, so satisfying.
Foster filled him, stretched him, gripped his hips hard and plunged into him. The strength of it sent shockwaves through Dexter's pelvis and up his spine, forcing his head to fall back. He felt his neck and collarbone being attacked, Foster bit him hard enough to break the skin again, the pain lanced through him, made him feel alive.
"Want you. Want harder. Want deeper. Want more." Dexter chanted.
Foster kissed him, deep possessive kisses. “Why would you ever think I’d stop loving you?” He gasped the words between thrusts, biting and nuzzling Dexter's throat and mouth. Dexter let his head fall to one side, wouldn’t meet his eyes. Foster snarled at him and plunged in deeper somehow, “I want you, you’re mine, don’t ever forget that.”
Dexter's breath caught in his throat with each pounding blow. “Look at me,” Foster commanded. Dexter obeyed, his eyes half closed. Foster kissed him again, sucking his tongue into his mouth. He moaned and reciprocated the kiss, twisting his fingers into Foster's hair.
Foster kissed his throat, nuzzling roughly, the way Dexter liked it. Dexter started to tighten his sphincter around Foster's cock on every retreat. Foster mewled involuntarily with each tug, keeping the rhythm steady so they stayed in sync. He kissed his Dexter again; demanding and possessive, grazing his teeth against lips. He could feel Dexter's strength pushing against his backside, forcing him to buck harder, it only added to the pleasure building inside them.
“Want you need you love you,” Foster whispered. “My Dexter mine mine mine.” He slammed harder, knowing he was bruising and hurting and trying to hold back but not succeeding. This was what his Dexter wanted, screamed for, hungered for. Dexter clutched at him desperately, needing just a little more, a little more. Foster rammed into him, he was close, so close. He assaulted Dexter's mouth again, biting and sucking, slid his hand between them and stroked his cock. The sudden gentle friction pushed Dexter over the edge, he bucked violently, the explosion ripping through him, screaming into Foster’s mouth. Foster felt Dexter's sphincter tighten around his cock, managed a few more plunges into the heat of Dexter's body, then the sensation overtook him. The orgasm tore a ragged cry from him, soft waves of pleasure ripping through him, tingling along his limbs. He trembled with satisfied lust, deep warm shudders that left him heaving for breath. Different from me, but just as good.
"How could I ever not want you?"
Dexter clung to him, still shaking. Foster was still inside him and it felt so good, he wished they could stay like this forever. Foster nibbled at his throat, triggering aftershocks that made Dexter gasp and squirm. Dexter linked his ankles behind Foster's back, wondering what the other would do if he refused to let go, if he made him stay like this. It was almost more than he could stand when Foster moved away gently.
“Dexter, you going to let me out?”
Dexter thought about arguing, being aggressive, but it had only got him into trouble in the past. He’d already been demanding, he didn’t want to risk annoying him. Regretfully he released his hold. Foster saw the emotion and reacted to it, he pulled his cock clear of Dexter's body but then sprawled on top of him possessively. Tenderly he started to kiss, keeping it gentle but hungry.
“How was it for you?” he whispered softly, “Did I do okay? Is there anything else you want? Tell me what you want.”
"Just hold me, please. I want to feel wanted." Dexter whimpered.
“You’re always wanted.” Foster licked along his collarbone; there was a brief sting as his tongue ran over the bites he’d inflicted.
"Are you going to fuck me again?" He sounded hopeful.
Foster buried his smirk in Dexter's throat. “You are going to be the death of me you insatiable hussy. Here lies Foster, he died young but very happy, struck down by terminal exhaustion.” He nuzzled gently along Dexter's jawbone, leaving tiny kisses behind at random intervals. “I think I’m going to need to rest for awhile.”
Dexter grumbled in disappointment, making Foster smile. “Can I get cleaned up then?” Dexter asked quietly, it was Foster's turn to sigh with disappointment. He wanted to cuddle, but the longer they laid in their mess the twitchier and more uncomfortable Dexter got. Although he wouldn’t actually move without Foster's permission, it was better to let him wash up, feel clean again.
“Okay, go on.” Foster slapped Dexter across the ass as he climbed out of bed. Dexter squeaked and jumped, gave him a disapproving look. Foster growled and grabbed at him, chased him into the bathroom. He was surprised to hear Dexter actually giggle as he wrestled him into the tub.
"I thought you were tired?"
“I told you, you’re never gonna get away.” Foster turned the shower on and yelped in surprise, it was freezing. Dexter gasped in shock as the water hit him.
"What’s with the glacier water?"
Foster scrabbled with the controls, nearly scalded them, froze them again, then gave it up. He grabbed the soap in one hand, a protesting Dexter in the other and soaped him up quickly, then himself. Dexter moaned at the touch, making Foster all the more frustrated at the shower’s awkwardness. He washed them both down quickly with cold water, Dexter making inarticulate noises of complaint. “Need to get warmed up now.” Foster kissed him savagely, dragging him back out of the tub.
“I can do that.” Dexter pushed Foster against the wall and started to move his mouth down the smaller man’s torso, kissing, licking. It felt good to make Foster moan and writhe. He dropped to his knees and rested his face against Foster’s cock,
"You really want me?"
“Yes.” It was just a whisper, but it formed a lump in Dexter's throat. He wanted to make Foster happy, keep him satisfied, keep him from leaving. He wouldn’t leave if Dexter did what he wanted, surely. Foster stroked his hair, tenderly, and Dexter hated himself for flinching. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Foster whispered, he almost pushed Dexter away.
Dexter looked up at the the man for permission. Foster smiled at him, a dirty smile, loving, hungry. Dexter nuzzled his cock, thoughtfully, trying to decide exactly what he needed to get him hard again. A long lick made Foster gasp and squirm a little, it was followed by the sensation of a careful tongue exploring his groin, tracing the veins of his thighs, then moving up to lap at his testicles. The sensation ripped noises from him, he cried out when he felt himself being engulfed by Dexter's warm mouth. He moved his head slowly, alternately sucking and releasing. He was hard as a rock again already. Dexter got a little nervous and worried for a second. Foster stroked Dexter's hair, tenderly.
Dexter felt Foster's hands in his hair and tried to scream, he yanked himself clear of Foster's body and huddled on the floor.
"I can’t do anything right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" He fought when Foster grabbed him, hauled him to his feet, and led him to the living room.
“You,” Foster whispered in his ear, “Sit there.” He pushed Dexter on the chair. “I’m going to get you a warm drink so you can calm down some. Then I’m going to throw you in bed. Then I’m going to fuck you until you scream for mercy. Then I’m going to get my breath back. Then I’m going to fuck you some more. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Foster straddled him, kissed him hard, pulled his head back by a handful of hair and assaulted his throat. Then disappeared into the kitchen.
"You okay?" I asked Dexter.
"I think so. Just stay here with me, please?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
I did my best to comfort. It wasn’t the same as being held by someone, and I'm not the gentlest of souls, but it had been sufficient before, it would be now. He relaxed into the familiar caress, closing his eyes and biting his lower lip.
“Come on.” Foster prowled out of the kitchen, grabbed Dexter up into his arms and dragged him into the bedroom.
“I thought you were making me a drink?”
“You’re too irresistible, I can’t help myself,” Foster mock-growled and leapt onto the bed, we hit the mattress with a thud and nearly bounced off. “And I think I owe the pair of you a severe tickling. And if one of you hides the other gets a double helping."
“You wouldn’t.” We said together.
Seductively he slid his fingers up our flanks, then attacked, tickling.
“No!NonononononononohowdareyouohmygodfuckstopitaaarghI’llkillyou!”
Foster grinned, “No you won’t, you love it really.” He slid down a little and ran his tongue up the middle of Dexter's belly. The snarl of denial was lost in a soft cry of want. Foster upped the ante and pushed his face into the warm flesh. He licked and nuzzled, felt the body beneath him start to wrap around him. Thighs pressed around his chest, spine curved to cup him, large sensitive hands slid behind his head. Foster took the opportunity to force his arms under Dexter's back, pull him in closer.
"That’s so nice…"
"Why do I even like that?"
"Go away...it's my turn."
"He said he'd tickle you if I left."
"He didn't mean it."
Foster pulled his face away and looked up at us, he waited until Dexter realised he’d stopped and opened his eyes. “I did mean it,” he whispered. Dexter's features clouded again with hurt and anger. “This is for both of you to share. Dexter gets what he wants. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it. And Gabriel has to put up with being sore and bruised and needing to recover before I can touch him…Then in future we talk things like this through as if we’re all sensible and reasonably sane adults, instead of sulking like little kids. Deal?”
"Reasonably sane? Have you even met Dexter?" I said.
"Whatever I want?" Dexter asked.
Foster hid his laugh in Dexter's stomach. He attacked again, forcing his tongue into our belly button, licking us hard. We both squeaked together and our shared body writhed beneath him. Dexter tasted homely, like soap and freshly scrubbed skin.
“What are you going to do to us?” Dexter whispered softly, he still had his eyes shut, concentrating on the sensations chasing through his core. I waited quietly for the answer. Foster got up and sprinted for the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"Why are you going?"
"What did I do wrong?"
"I didn’t do anything."
"I didn’t."
"Did you do something?"
"No, did you?"
"You must have done something!" We screamed at each other.
“Calm down I’m back,” Foster slammed us back into the bed, pushing us roughly into the pillows. There was a brief twist to Dexter's face, a certain weight added to his expression as I nearly came to the surface. Then Dexter shoved me to the back again. Foster pounced on top of him, pinning him. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, I told you. I want you, I’m having you, you’re mine. And I’m not letting you leave until you’ve been well and truly fucked, Dexter.”
"You can’t keep me here; you’re not strong enough."
"He’s not talking to you; he’s talking to me."
"He can’t talk to you like that."
"He can talk to me any way I want him to."
"You like being bullied?"
"I like being wanted…"
Foster took the argument as an opportunity to slip an ice-cube into his mouth.
We were still squabbling when he pulled the head of Dexter's cock into his mouth.
"OH FUCK. What the?" Dexter said.
"Yessss…" I liked that idea.
"S’cold."
"S’nice."
Foster grinned to himself and took more of our erection, sucking gently. Dexter's thighs clamped around his head and he had to fight to move our legs under his arms. He paused and pulled away, fumbling in the bedside drawer
"Don’t stop, please don’t stop." Dexter whined.
“Not stopping, getting lube.” Foster's speech was muffled by the ice-cube.
"Don’t need that." Dexter said.
"Yes, he does." I said, I was the one who would barely be able to walk after this.
"Sissy."
"WHAT DID YOU JUST CAL-GAAAHHH OH OH OH." I yelped at the sudden pressure.
Foster interrupted us by deep throating Dexter. He was accustomed to me being in charge, with Dexter as a silent partner. The constant bickering of both of us at once was starting to distract him.
Foster pulled away a little and tongued the ice-cube around the head of Dexter's cock, enjoying the way the sensation of cold made Dexter moan and buck his hips. Dexter was clinging desperately to the metal bars of the already bent headboard; Foster took the opportunity to run cool fingers up his belly. He waited until Dexter started to come around a little, then attacked him again.
"OH oh oh yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes."
Foster lubed up his fingers and started to push his fingers gently into Dexter's ass. Dexter shoved down quickly, demanding the whole,
"OW." I said in pain.
"Shut up."
"Oh, Oh, Oh."
Foster stifled a snicker and bobbed again, determined to silence us both. He hummed softly, making us writhe. Our fingers buried in Foster's hair and the long legs circling his chest tightened, holding him in place. Dexter whimpered in disappointment as Foster pulled his fingers clear, then crooned with pleasure when he worked them back in.
Foster swallowed around Dexter's cock head, reducing his victim to a shivering wreck. It left us gasping for breath, whimpering and whining, so he did it again. And again. And again. We came in a screaming burst, hips bucking spasmodically. Foster didn’t let us relax, licked a still cold tongue across our stomach, making us writhe and cry. He scissored the fingers still inside our body, licked our belly, gently bit our inner thigh. We gasped desperately, struggling to breathe, to control the spasms being forced from us. Inside our head I was begging for it to stop, and whimpering no, no, no every time it did. Eventually Foster let us be, let us recover. It was a relief, slightly disappointing, but a relief.
Dexter had shoved me to the back again.
"Oh… So good… Mmmmmmmmmm…" Dexter said, pleased with himself.
“Dexter, don’t take this the wrong way but you and Gabriel are the most fucked up person I have ever met in my life, do you know that?” Dexter stiffened again, not sure what the correct response was to that statement. “I wouldn’t change you for the world though.” Foster rolled, placing Dexter on top but still holding him, refusing to release. He knew he was lost, so he attacked his throat again, distracting him. “I love you, I don’t care whether you believe me or not, I know it’s true.” Dexter whimpered as Foster dug his fingers into his short dark hair, “Never gonna let you get away.”
Foster kissed him again roughly, ran scratching fingers down his back. Dexter keened with pleasure, arched his back. Dexter's head smacked against the corner of the headboard of the bed with a resounding whack and an OW!
“Shit,” Foster breathed, “Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop,” Dexter whimpered. “Just don’t stop.”
“You are fucking insatiable you know that?” Foster stared at him worriedly.
To his surprise Dexter wrapped his arms around Foster's shoulders, burying his face in his hair. Clinging. Wanting. Needy. Hungry.
Dexter's dark eyes blew wide open staring directly into Foster's.
“Are you still you?” Dexter scrabbled onto his feet, huddling into the corner farthest away from him.
“What?”
He looked Foster over. Determining wether or not it truly was him. After he was 100% positive it was Foster he hopped back on the bed beside him.
“Why have you stopped?” Dexter quirked his eyebrows mischievously. “I think I might still be able to walk away from this…”
“Oh, it is on now.” Foster attacked his mouth. He sucked Dexter's lower lip, bit it gently. Dexter mewled and pushed against him, trying to get him start moving his hips again. Foster kept still, teasing, tormenting. It took all of a minute before Dexter started scratching and struggling, desperate for movement. Grinning to himself Foster gave him what he needed, ramming his cock into that sweet warm heat. He lifted Dexter up, letting him slide down the full length of his erection, did it repeatedly. “Squeeze me,” he whispered. Dexter obeyed, no argument, no question, tightening around Foster every time he pulled out, releasing as he pushed in. His body pulled at Foster, yanking sensation out of him. He was close again already, he could barely believe it. The pleasure built in waves, crashing against his insides, emphasised by every little gasp and cry he ripped from Dexter's throat. Abruptly he changed angle, searching, knew he’d found what he needed when Dexter cried out. He thrust again, making him wail. He yanked Dexter down into his crotch, spearing him roughly. Dexter cried out, the feeling tearing through him. He shivered uncontrollably, spasms of pleasure rebounding inside him and setting off new waves. Foster slammed into him again, triggering off another explosion, Foster came in a shivering burst, sensation overloading him, making his legs turn to jelly.
They slid into the sheets. Dexter made a complaining noise at the sticky mess. “Did you ever stop to think that I might feel unwanted,” Foster growled at him.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because every time we have sex you can’t wait to get rid of the evidence.”
"I...I...I didn’t think about it like that… I’m sorry, I di…"
“See, not fun having someone go into rejection melt-down is it?” Foster interrupted. He hated making Dexter feel bad, but right now he really needed to just hold him and recover, rather than brave the freezing water again, change the sheets, then finally get to hold him and recover. He pulled free of Dexter's body and gathered up, cradling him.
"I’m sorry."
“Dexter. Shut up and cuddle me.”
"Okay."
“And stop sounding so meek. I know damn well you’re a violent little hussy. I just want to lie here for a few hours, get my breath back.”
Dexter lay still, listening to Foster's heartbeat. He felt dirty, and a little used. But now that he knew Foster didn’t like him rushing off to clean up he was too scared to go do it. He pushed his nose into Foster's chest and breathed in his scent, it was soothing, safe. Do I really want to get that off me? he wondered timidly. He decided to try and last as long as he could, it wasn’t as if he wanted to scrub Foster off. It was just the smell of sex that disturbed him, brought back bad memories. A warm hand stroked his back, carefully avoiding the scar next to his spine. Dexter started to relax a little, he burrowed deeper into the embrace, breathed deeper, reminding himself that this was Foster. Foster who wanted him, Foster who knew not to ask hurtful questions, Foster who cared what he liked and disliked. Who’d found out what frightened him so he could avoid it, not use it.
"Love you." He whispered softly into Foster's ear.
“Love you too,” Foster whispered, half asleep. He slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of Dexter's neck, started to stroke softly. It was so soothing that Dexter dozed, happy and content, pressed into his lover’s body...
I woke to find myself cradled in Foster's arms, my head laid on his chest. Foster was fast asleep, his heartbeat a slow, steady thunder in my ear. I pulled myself up, shocked. Foster murmured softly and clutched with his hands, searching for the warm body that had just left him. The sight made my chest hurt a little. I got out of the bed, wanting to get away from the image and strange feelings, and nearly stumbled.
"Ow. Fuck, Dexter what did you do?" There was no answer from the exhausted little bitch.
I hobbled for the bathroom, wincing with every step. Dexter usually had the decency to patch up any damage before retreating. He must still be pissed at me, I thought grimly.
I padded carefully and quietly into the bathroom and found some tissue. Dampening it I wiped the streaks of blood from the inside of my leg.
"My ass feels like a windsock," I muttered to my absent partner-in-crime, "And I don’t even want to know what happened to our head. Not to mention the bed looks like a fucking crime scene." I examined my bruises thoughtfully. “I’ve had less injuries when I've jumped of a building, you sick little masochist freak,” I whispered to my other self.
I leaned against the sink for support and slowly started to put myself back together. It was slow, exhausting work and the cold porcelain was soothing against my bare skin.
Feeling shaky but a little better I was struck suddenly by a feeling of being watched. "Dexter? That you?" He murmured dreamily that it wasn’t and went back to sleep. I growled to myself and stalked out of the bathroom, but there was no heartbeat in the apartment other than myself and Foster. Confused I realised the sensation of being watched had ceased. It started again when I stepped backwards. That was odd, there was definitely no one in the bathroom. Shaking my head at my own paranoia I went to see if there was anything to eat. I needed protein and carbs to make up for those I'd just used. I found a glass eventually and filled it with milk, there were cookies in a jar so I took a couple.
I was finishing the last of my milk when I heard Foster moan, and it sounded like someone else’s name. In my rage I forgot my exhaustion and stormed into the bedroom. Foster was curled in a fetal ball, whimpering in his sleep.
“Trevor.”
"What? Your brother? Why are you dreaming about your brother?"
“Get away, get away, don’t come near me, nooo.” Foster squirmed, his hands started balling into fists. Beautiful but deadly. “Don’t come near me,” he pleaded.
A nightmare. Foster began to fight me, screaming in his sleep.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Foster, snap out of it.” I slapped him, hard. There was a moment of disorientated struggle before Foster woke and stared at him.
“Gabriel?” He sounded surprised, as if I was intruding. The shock in his voice was not lost on me.
“Who were you expecting?” I growled angrily.
“Oh Jesus.” Foster ripped his hands clear of mine and wrapped himself around my torso, clinging desperately, shuddering and sobbing.
I stared down at him, completely out of my area of expertise. Neither I nor Dexter have ever found ourselves in this situation before, except with each other, and that was different. It was easy to tell what someone needed when they were using the same nerve centre. I didn’t have the first clue what to do.
"What do I do?" I mentally nudged the Dexter as hard as I could.
"Leave me alone I’m tired."
"Foster’s freaking out what the hell do I do?"
That was enough to rouse Dexter. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing. He had a nightmare. Thank you for assuming it’s my fault. I appreciate your vote of confidence."
Dexter diplomatically decided against responding to that. "I don’t know, rub his back maybe, like you do me." I ran my fingers down Foster's spine. "No, with your hand doofus, it feels better." I snarled at him, I was not in the mood for trading insults. Dexter retreated again, but stayed awake, just in case.
I ran a trembling hand down Foster's back, as gently as I could. Then brought it up again, slid it into his hair before stroking back down. I wrapped my other arm around the smaller body, protectively. Somehow it was easier to be held like this, even though I still liked the sensation of being cuddled I didn’t feel half as pathetic when I was being the protective one.
“Are you two quite finished?” Foster asked in a choked voice, face buried in the rough skin of my chest.
“We’re talking about you, not to you.” I kissed his hair softly.
Foster chuckled fitfully between heaving breaths. He pulled me into the bed and crawled on top, still shaking. Quietly he buried his face back into my chest and clung to me, pushing the memory of the dream away and concentrating on the scent and feel of the present. I was a little confused, but kept stroking and touching, sticking to what worked. Eventually Foster calmed down completely.
“You okay?” I asked softly, there was no answer. I tried to move and was growled at, Foster pinned me down with his weight. I struggled for a moment before I realized he had fallen back asleep. "What now?" I asked Dexter. There was no answer, Dexter had dozed off too. Well that’s just perfect. I considered my predicament; I really didn’t want to wake Foster. But I couldn’t stay here. Maybe just a little longer. I thought quietly. I’m staying because he needs it, not because I want to. I’m just looking out for him; it’s no big deal. I’m not staying because I like it and he feels so good pressed against me. I’m not staying because I want to get as much of this as I can while nobody can see how much I crave it. I don’t need this, I can leave any time I want…
I was still rationalising the decision when the exhaustion of everything caught up with me. In a warm tangle of sticky sheets and tired limbs, two bodies and three people slept peacefully, probably looking a lot more angelic than we really deserved to.
Gabriel.
"Gabriel?" He murmured, pulling me from my wandering thoughts.
"Hmm?" I was too relaxed to be more coherent than that. I nuzzled my face against his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss there as he tangled our limbs together.
Running my hands up and down Foster's back in a soothing motion that would have put him to sleep if there hadn't been a kind of significance to his query. "Why are you afraid of me leaving?"
I blinked up at him. "Huh?" was the brilliant, eloquent response I came up with.
"Why did you talk about me leaving you? I don't ever want to leave."
"It's not important right now." I leaned in, kissing him lightly.
He pulled back so we could see each other. "I'm not convinced."
I squirmed, I did not want to have this particular conversation at the moment. "It's really not an issue-"
"Gabriel." He cut me off with gentle reprimand in his voice, one hand splaying over my head.
"Seriously, Foster, it's not-"
"Gabriel," He repeated, tilting my head up so we were eye to eye.
"It's not something I talk about."
I moved my fingers over Foster's face in that quiet, exploratory way of mine. I traced his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyebrow. I drug my fingers along the side of his face, curling around the nape of his neck, moving so our lips were almost touching when I murmured, "I will share you."
I regained my composure. "Are you aware of my other self?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Your other self?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. I do not usually allow him to come out but at times he can be...he can be a bit persistent." I stared at my hands again.
"Do you..." I gathered my energy before speaking again. "Do you wish to meet him?"
He looked at me awhile longer as if settling a war in his mind. The war had gone in favor of me switching.
My expression devoid of any emotion as I let my other self free.
"Gabriel?" He tilted his head.
"Nope. Guess again." Dexter teased.
He didn't put any thought into it.
"Gabriel?"
“It’s my turn,” Dexter's voice was quiet, filled with hurt.
"Your turn?" Foster returned.
“You’ve already skipped me twice,” Dexter snarled, fighting him off.
“You hurt him.” It was my voice; Dexter had retreated, pushing his protector out. "I’m the only one allowed to hurt him."
“Gabriel, bring him back, please, I need to talk to him. We need to sort this out.”
"His name is Dexter." I said, switching back.
Dexter is a screaming wreck, desperate to be abused.
"It's my turn now." Dexter said quietly, still feeling hurt.
Dexter hesitated for a moment and then pushed himself into a kiss, he always kissed more shyly than I did.
"My turn now?"
“I don’t know, is it?” Foster slid his fingers gently inside Dexter, he moaned a little and arched his spine, wanting to be taken. “You ready?"
“I’m ready to be fucked. Please. Please.”
Foster licked his tongue up Dexter's throat, he nipped delicately along his jawbone, enjoying the way it made him squirm. Dexter was gasping, little whimpering cries, trying to force his way further down onto Foster’s fingers.
“Foster, stop teasing me, please, I want it.”
“What do you want?”
“You inside me, I want you to fuck me. Please Foster, please.”
“You sure that’s what you want?” Foster teased.
“Yes. That’s what I want, that’s all I want. Please.”
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“If you don’t want me stop tormenting me.” Dexter stopped squirming suddenly, he was on the verge of tears.
“I want you. Just because I enjoy having such a sexy man begging me to fuck him, doesn’t mean I don’t want him. The opposite in fact, it’s insanely good for my ego. Is Gabriel gone?” Foster kissed him tenderly, worrying a little about his mental state (I would be too).
“Yeah, he’s gone. He knows I like it rough. Don’t tease me any more, I want you, please…”
Foster pulled his fingers clear, and coated his cock with lube. Dexter would let him fuck him dry if he wanted. As long as you avoided certain things Dexter was prepared to take a surprising amount of damage. He enjoyed a surprising amount of damage.
He pushed against Dexter's sphincter, it took a bit of force to get past. Dexter wailed and pushed down against him. Foster gripped his pelvis and yanked him into his crotch, hard. Dexter opened up, taking his cock whole in one movement.
"OW! That hurts!" I screamed in pain.
"Gabriel, either fuck off or quit complaining!" Dexter shouted back.
“I thought you said he was gone.” Foster said, nipping Dexter's collarbone gently with his teeth, trying to hide his shock at Dexter's outburst.
“He is now…” Dexter let his head loll, offering his throat for more bites, a lot happier now that he was full. He started to writhe a little on Foster's erection, grinding his own cock against Foster's belly.
Dexter smiled, making Foster feel warm inside, it always made him happy to see my shy smile. Foster started to ease out of Dexter's body, watching his face carefully. Dexter flinched a little, but when Foster tried to keep the stroke slow he growled and jabbed Foster's back. Foster yelped and bucked, slamming into him full force. Dexter cried out with satisfaction, tried to work his way further down onto Foster's cock.
"I’m not him; don’t treat me like a china doll. You know what I like. You said I could have whatever I wanted."
Foster bit him, a hard bite to the chest, above his left nipple. It was savage enough to draw blood. Dexter moaned soundlessly.
"YES."
Foster sucked the flesh, bursting capillaries beneath the skin, leaving a dark red patch over an inch across. Dexter loved to be bruised and marked, feel possessed and be left with a physical reminder of that possession. He’s so unlike me, we're like Jekyll and Hyde. He wailed and wrapped his arms around Foster's shoulders, arching his back.
"YES, I want. Fuck me hard, make me feel it. Please. Please. Please."
Foster grabbed his hips and slammed into him, running gentle bites up that long pale throat. He pulled completely out and forced himself in again. Dexter crooned and mewled, hungering for the sensation. Wrapping his legs around Foster's bucking ass, he tried to position himself so Foster could get deeper, fuck him harder, more completely. Foster got a rhythm going and Dexter clung to him, arching and gasping.
When Foster was doing this Dexter could forget the world, forget the mess he’d put himself in, forget me. Forget everything except the fact that Foster wanted him. Foster liked him enough to do this to him. He was good enough for something; he didn’t have to be more. Somebody other than me gave a shit. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on the sensation of the cock moving inside him, the pain had lessened. Now it was just the slow burn, it felt so good, so right, so satisfying.
Foster filled him, stretched him, gripped his hips hard and plunged into him. The strength of it sent shockwaves through Dexter's pelvis and up his spine, forcing his head to fall back. He felt his neck and collarbone being attacked, Foster bit him hard enough to break the skin again, the pain lanced through him, made him feel alive.
"Want you. Want harder. Want deeper. Want more." Dexter chanted.
Foster kissed him, deep possessive kisses. “Why would you ever think I’d stop loving you?” He gasped the words between thrusts, biting and nuzzling Dexter's throat and mouth. Dexter let his head fall to one side, wouldn’t meet his eyes. Foster snarled at him and plunged in deeper somehow, “I want you, you’re mine, don’t ever forget that.”
Dexter's breath caught in his throat with each pounding blow. “Look at me,” Foster commanded. Dexter obeyed, his eyes half closed. Foster kissed him again, sucking his tongue into his mouth. He moaned and reciprocated the kiss, twisting his fingers into Foster's hair.
Foster kissed his throat, nuzzling roughly, the way Dexter liked it. Dexter started to tighten his sphincter around Foster's cock on every retreat. Foster mewled involuntarily with each tug, keeping the rhythm steady so they stayed in sync. He kissed his Dexter again; demanding and possessive, grazing his teeth against lips. He could feel Dexter's strength pushing against his backside, forcing him to buck harder, it only added to the pleasure building inside them.
“Want you need you love you,” Foster whispered. “My Dexter mine mine mine.” He slammed harder, knowing he was bruising and hurting and trying to hold back but not succeeding. This was what his Dexter wanted, screamed for, hungered for. Dexter clutched at him desperately, needing just a little more, a little more. Foster rammed into him, he was close, so close. He assaulted Dexter's mouth again, biting and sucking, slid his hand between them and stroked his cock. The sudden gentle friction pushed Dexter over the edge, he bucked violently, the explosion ripping through him, screaming into Foster’s mouth. Foster felt Dexter's sphincter tighten around his cock, managed a few more plunges into the heat of Dexter's body, then the sensation overtook him. The orgasm tore a ragged cry from him, soft waves of pleasure ripping through him, tingling along his limbs. He trembled with satisfied lust, deep warm shudders that left him heaving for breath. Different from me, but just as good.
"How could I ever not want you?"
Dexter clung to him, still shaking. Foster was still inside him and it felt so good, he wished they could stay like this forever. Foster nibbled at his throat, triggering aftershocks that made Dexter gasp and squirm. Dexter linked his ankles behind Foster's back, wondering what the other would do if he refused to let go, if he made him stay like this. It was almost more than he could stand when Foster moved away gently.
“Dexter, you going to let me out?”
Dexter thought about arguing, being aggressive, but it had only got him into trouble in the past. He’d already been demanding, he didn’t want to risk annoying him. Regretfully he released his hold. Foster saw the emotion and reacted to it, he pulled his cock clear of Dexter's body but then sprawled on top of him possessively. Tenderly he started to kiss, keeping it gentle but hungry.
“How was it for you?” he whispered softly, “Did I do okay? Is there anything else you want? Tell me what you want.”
"Just hold me, please. I want to feel wanted." Dexter whimpered.
“You’re always wanted.” Foster licked along his collarbone; there was a brief sting as his tongue ran over the bites he’d inflicted.
"Are you going to fuck me again?" He sounded hopeful.
Foster buried his smirk in Dexter's throat. “You are going to be the death of me you insatiable hussy. Here lies Foster, he died young but very happy, struck down by terminal exhaustion.” He nuzzled gently along Dexter's jawbone, leaving tiny kisses behind at random intervals. “I think I’m going to need to rest for awhile.”
Dexter grumbled in disappointment, making Foster smile. “Can I get cleaned up then?” Dexter asked quietly, it was Foster's turn to sigh with disappointment. He wanted to cuddle, but the longer they laid in their mess the twitchier and more uncomfortable Dexter got. Although he wouldn’t actually move without Foster's permission, it was better to let him wash up, feel clean again.
“Okay, go on.” Foster slapped Dexter across the ass as he climbed out of bed. Dexter squeaked and jumped, gave him a disapproving look. Foster growled and grabbed at him, chased him into the bathroom. He was surprised to hear Dexter actually giggle as he wrestled him into the tub.
"I thought you were tired?"
“I told you, you’re never gonna get away.” Foster turned the shower on and yelped in surprise, it was freezing. Dexter gasped in shock as the water hit him.
"What’s with the glacier water?"
Foster scrabbled with the controls, nearly scalded them, froze them again, then gave it up. He grabbed the soap in one hand, a protesting Dexter in the other and soaped him up quickly, then himself. Dexter moaned at the touch, making Foster all the more frustrated at the shower’s awkwardness. He washed them both down quickly with cold water, Dexter making inarticulate noises of complaint. “Need to get warmed up now.” Foster kissed him savagely, dragging him back out of the tub.
“I can do that.” Dexter pushed Foster against the wall and started to move his mouth down the smaller man’s torso, kissing, licking. It felt good to make Foster moan and writhe. He dropped to his knees and rested his face against Foster’s cock,
"You really want me?"
“Yes.” It was just a whisper, but it formed a lump in Dexter's throat. He wanted to make Foster happy, keep him satisfied, keep him from leaving. He wouldn’t leave if Dexter did what he wanted, surely. Foster stroked his hair, tenderly, and Dexter hated himself for flinching. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Foster whispered, he almost pushed Dexter away.
Dexter looked up at the the man for permission. Foster smiled at him, a dirty smile, loving, hungry. Dexter nuzzled his cock, thoughtfully, trying to decide exactly what he needed to get him hard again. A long lick made Foster gasp and squirm a little, it was followed by the sensation of a careful tongue exploring his groin, tracing the veins of his thighs, then moving up to lap at his testicles. The sensation ripped noises from him, he cried out when he felt himself being engulfed by Dexter's warm mouth. He moved his head slowly, alternately sucking and releasing. He was hard as a rock again already. Dexter got a little nervous and worried for a second. Foster stroked Dexter's hair, tenderly.
Dexter felt Foster's hands in his hair and tried to scream, he yanked himself clear of Foster's body and huddled on the floor.
"I can’t do anything right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" He fought when Foster grabbed him, hauled him to his feet, and led him to the living room.
“You,” Foster whispered in his ear, “Sit there.” He pushed Dexter on the chair. “I’m going to get you a warm drink so you can calm down some. Then I’m going to throw you in bed. Then I’m going to fuck you until you scream for mercy. Then I’m going to get my breath back. Then I’m going to fuck you some more. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Foster straddled him, kissed him hard, pulled his head back by a handful of hair and assaulted his throat. Then disappeared into the kitchen.
"You okay?" I asked Dexter.
"I think so. Just stay here with me, please?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
I did my best to comfort. It wasn’t the same as being held by someone, and I'm not the gentlest of souls, but it had been sufficient before, it would be now. He relaxed into the familiar caress, closing his eyes and biting his lower lip.
“Come on.” Foster prowled out of the kitchen, grabbed Dexter up into his arms and dragged him into the bedroom.
“I thought you were making me a drink?”
“You’re too irresistible, I can’t help myself,” Foster mock-growled and leapt onto the bed, we hit the mattress with a thud and nearly bounced off. “And I think I owe the pair of you a severe tickling. And if one of you hides the other gets a double helping."
“You wouldn’t.” We said together.
Seductively he slid his fingers up our flanks, then attacked, tickling.
“No!NonononononononohowdareyouohmygodfuckstopitaaarghI’llkillyou!”
Foster grinned, “No you won’t, you love it really.” He slid down a little and ran his tongue up the middle of Dexter's belly. The snarl of denial was lost in a soft cry of want. Foster upped the ante and pushed his face into the warm flesh. He licked and nuzzled, felt the body beneath him start to wrap around him. Thighs pressed around his chest, spine curved to cup him, large sensitive hands slid behind his head. Foster took the opportunity to force his arms under Dexter's back, pull him in closer.
"That’s so nice…"
"Why do I even like that?"
"Go away...it's my turn."
"He said he'd tickle you if I left."
"He didn't mean it."
Foster pulled his face away and looked up at us, he waited until Dexter realised he’d stopped and opened his eyes. “I did mean it,” he whispered. Dexter's features clouded again with hurt and anger. “This is for both of you to share. Dexter gets what he wants. Whatever he wants, I’ll do it. And Gabriel has to put up with being sore and bruised and needing to recover before I can touch him…Then in future we talk things like this through as if we’re all sensible and reasonably sane adults, instead of sulking like little kids. Deal?”
"Reasonably sane? Have you even met Dexter?" I said.
"Whatever I want?" Dexter asked.
Foster hid his laugh in Dexter's stomach. He attacked again, forcing his tongue into our belly button, licking us hard. We both squeaked together and our shared body writhed beneath him. Dexter tasted homely, like soap and freshly scrubbed skin.
“What are you going to do to us?” Dexter whispered softly, he still had his eyes shut, concentrating on the sensations chasing through his core. I waited quietly for the answer. Foster got up and sprinted for the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"Why are you going?"
"What did I do wrong?"
"I didn’t do anything."
"I didn’t."
"Did you do something?"
"No, did you?"
"You must have done something!" We screamed at each other.
“Calm down I’m back,” Foster slammed us back into the bed, pushing us roughly into the pillows. There was a brief twist to Dexter's face, a certain weight added to his expression as I nearly came to the surface. Then Dexter shoved me to the back again. Foster pounced on top of him, pinning him. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, I told you. I want you, I’m having you, you’re mine. And I’m not letting you leave until you’ve been well and truly fucked, Dexter.”
"You can’t keep me here; you’re not strong enough."
"He’s not talking to you; he’s talking to me."
"He can’t talk to you like that."
"He can talk to me any way I want him to."
"You like being bullied?"
"I like being wanted…"
Foster took the argument as an opportunity to slip an ice-cube into his mouth.
We were still squabbling when he pulled the head of Dexter's cock into his mouth.
"OH FUCK. What the?" Dexter said.
"Yessss…" I liked that idea.
"S’cold."
"S’nice."
Foster grinned to himself and took more of our erection, sucking gently. Dexter's thighs clamped around his head and he had to fight to move our legs under his arms. He paused and pulled away, fumbling in the bedside drawer
"Don’t stop, please don’t stop." Dexter whined.
“Not stopping, getting lube.” Foster's speech was muffled by the ice-cube.
"Don’t need that." Dexter said.
"Yes, he does." I said, I was the one who would barely be able to walk after this.
"Sissy."
"WHAT DID YOU JUST CAL-GAAAHHH OH OH OH." I yelped at the sudden pressure.
Foster interrupted us by deep throating Dexter. He was accustomed to me being in charge, with Dexter as a silent partner. The constant bickering of both of us at once was starting to distract him.
Foster pulled away a little and tongued the ice-cube around the head of Dexter's cock, enjoying the way the sensation of cold made Dexter moan and buck his hips. Dexter was clinging desperately to the metal bars of the already bent headboard; Foster took the opportunity to run cool fingers up his belly. He waited until Dexter started to come around a little, then attacked him again.
"OH oh oh yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes."
Foster lubed up his fingers and started to push his fingers gently into Dexter's ass. Dexter shoved down quickly, demanding the whole,
"OW." I said in pain.
"Shut up."
"Oh, Oh, Oh."
Foster stifled a snicker and bobbed again, determined to silence us both. He hummed softly, making us writhe. Our fingers buried in Foster's hair and the long legs circling his chest tightened, holding him in place. Dexter whimpered in disappointment as Foster pulled his fingers clear, then crooned with pleasure when he worked them back in.
Foster swallowed around Dexter's cock head, reducing his victim to a shivering wreck. It left us gasping for breath, whimpering and whining, so he did it again. And again. And again. We came in a screaming burst, hips bucking spasmodically. Foster didn’t let us relax, licked a still cold tongue across our stomach, making us writhe and cry. He scissored the fingers still inside our body, licked our belly, gently bit our inner thigh. We gasped desperately, struggling to breathe, to control the spasms being forced from us. Inside our head I was begging for it to stop, and whimpering no, no, no every time it did. Eventually Foster let us be, let us recover. It was a relief, slightly disappointing, but a relief.
Dexter had shoved me to the back again.
"Oh… So good… Mmmmmmmmmm…" Dexter said, pleased with himself.
“Dexter, don’t take this the wrong way but you and Gabriel are the most fucked up person I have ever met in my life, do you know that?” Dexter stiffened again, not sure what the correct response was to that statement. “I wouldn’t change you for the world though.” Foster rolled, placing Dexter on top but still holding him, refusing to release. He knew he was lost, so he attacked his throat again, distracting him. “I love you, I don’t care whether you believe me or not, I know it’s true.” Dexter whimpered as Foster dug his fingers into his short dark hair, “Never gonna let you get away.”
Foster kissed him again roughly, ran scratching fingers down his back. Dexter keened with pleasure, arched his back. Dexter's head smacked against the corner of the headboard of the bed with a resounding whack and an OW!
“Shit,” Foster breathed, “Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop,” Dexter whimpered. “Just don’t stop.”
“You are fucking insatiable you know that?” Foster stared at him worriedly.
To his surprise Dexter wrapped his arms around Foster's shoulders, burying his face in his hair. Clinging. Wanting. Needy. Hungry.
Dexter's dark eyes blew wide open staring directly into Foster's.
“Are you still you?” Dexter scrabbled onto his feet, huddling into the corner farthest away from him.
“What?”
He looked Foster over. Determining wether or not it truly was him. After he was 100% positive it was Foster he hopped back on the bed beside him.
“Why have you stopped?” Dexter quirked his eyebrows mischievously. “I think I might still be able to walk away from this…”
“Oh, it is on now.” Foster attacked his mouth. He sucked Dexter's lower lip, bit it gently. Dexter mewled and pushed against him, trying to get him start moving his hips again. Foster kept still, teasing, tormenting. It took all of a minute before Dexter started scratching and struggling, desperate for movement. Grinning to himself Foster gave him what he needed, ramming his cock into that sweet warm heat. He lifted Dexter up, letting him slide down the full length of his erection, did it repeatedly. “Squeeze me,” he whispered. Dexter obeyed, no argument, no question, tightening around Foster every time he pulled out, releasing as he pushed in. His body pulled at Foster, yanking sensation out of him. He was close again already, he could barely believe it. The pleasure built in waves, crashing against his insides, emphasised by every little gasp and cry he ripped from Dexter's throat. Abruptly he changed angle, searching, knew he’d found what he needed when Dexter cried out. He thrust again, making him wail. He yanked Dexter down into his crotch, spearing him roughly. Dexter cried out, the feeling tearing through him. He shivered uncontrollably, spasms of pleasure rebounding inside him and setting off new waves. Foster slammed into him again, triggering off another explosion, Foster came in a shivering burst, sensation overloading him, making his legs turn to jelly.
They slid into the sheets. Dexter made a complaining noise at the sticky mess. “Did you ever stop to think that I might feel unwanted,” Foster growled at him.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because every time we have sex you can’t wait to get rid of the evidence.”
"I...I...I didn’t think about it like that… I’m sorry, I di…"
“See, not fun having someone go into rejection melt-down is it?” Foster interrupted. He hated making Dexter feel bad, but right now he really needed to just hold him and recover, rather than brave the freezing water again, change the sheets, then finally get to hold him and recover. He pulled free of Dexter's body and gathered up, cradling him.
"I’m sorry."
“Dexter. Shut up and cuddle me.”
"Okay."
“And stop sounding so meek. I know damn well you’re a violent little hussy. I just want to lie here for a few hours, get my breath back.”
Dexter lay still, listening to Foster's heartbeat. He felt dirty, and a little used. But now that he knew Foster didn’t like him rushing off to clean up he was too scared to go do it. He pushed his nose into Foster's chest and breathed in his scent, it was soothing, safe. Do I really want to get that off me? he wondered timidly. He decided to try and last as long as he could, it wasn’t as if he wanted to scrub Foster off. It was just the smell of sex that disturbed him, brought back bad memories. A warm hand stroked his back, carefully avoiding the scar next to his spine. Dexter started to relax a little, he burrowed deeper into the embrace, breathed deeper, reminding himself that this was Foster. Foster who wanted him, Foster who knew not to ask hurtful questions, Foster who cared what he liked and disliked. Who’d found out what frightened him so he could avoid it, not use it.
"Love you." He whispered softly into Foster's ear.
“Love you too,” Foster whispered, half asleep. He slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of Dexter's neck, started to stroke softly. It was so soothing that Dexter dozed, happy and content, pressed into his lover’s body...
I woke to find myself cradled in Foster's arms, my head laid on his chest. Foster was fast asleep, his heartbeat a slow, steady thunder in my ear. I pulled myself up, shocked. Foster murmured softly and clutched with his hands, searching for the warm body that had just left him. The sight made my chest hurt a little. I got out of the bed, wanting to get away from the image and strange feelings, and nearly stumbled.
"Ow. Fuck, Dexter what did you do?" There was no answer from the exhausted little bitch.
I hobbled for the bathroom, wincing with every step. Dexter usually had the decency to patch up any damage before retreating. He must still be pissed at me, I thought grimly.
I padded carefully and quietly into the bathroom and found some tissue. Dampening it I wiped the streaks of blood from the inside of my leg.
"My ass feels like a windsock," I muttered to my absent partner-in-crime, "And I don’t even want to know what happened to our head. Not to mention the bed looks like a fucking crime scene." I examined my bruises thoughtfully. “I’ve had less injuries when I've jumped of a building, you sick little masochist freak,” I whispered to my other self.
I leaned against the sink for support and slowly started to put myself back together. It was slow, exhausting work and the cold porcelain was soothing against my bare skin.
Feeling shaky but a little better I was struck suddenly by a feeling of being watched. "Dexter? That you?" He murmured dreamily that it wasn’t and went back to sleep. I growled to myself and stalked out of the bathroom, but there was no heartbeat in the apartment other than myself and Foster. Confused I realised the sensation of being watched had ceased. It started again when I stepped backwards. That was odd, there was definitely no one in the bathroom. Shaking my head at my own paranoia I went to see if there was anything to eat. I needed protein and carbs to make up for those I'd just used. I found a glass eventually and filled it with milk, there were cookies in a jar so I took a couple.
I was finishing the last of my milk when I heard Foster moan, and it sounded like someone else’s name. In my rage I forgot my exhaustion and stormed into the bedroom. Foster was curled in a fetal ball, whimpering in his sleep.
“Trevor.”
"What? Your brother? Why are you dreaming about your brother?"
“Get away, get away, don’t come near me, nooo.” Foster squirmed, his hands started balling into fists. Beautiful but deadly. “Don’t come near me,” he pleaded.
A nightmare. Foster began to fight me, screaming in his sleep.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Foster, snap out of it.” I slapped him, hard. There was a moment of disorientated struggle before Foster woke and stared at him.
“Gabriel?” He sounded surprised, as if I was intruding. The shock in his voice was not lost on me.
“Who were you expecting?” I growled angrily.
“Oh Jesus.” Foster ripped his hands clear of mine and wrapped himself around my torso, clinging desperately, shuddering and sobbing.
I stared down at him, completely out of my area of expertise. Neither I nor Dexter have ever found ourselves in this situation before, except with each other, and that was different. It was easy to tell what someone needed when they were using the same nerve centre. I didn’t have the first clue what to do.
"What do I do?" I mentally nudged the Dexter as hard as I could.
"Leave me alone I’m tired."
"Foster’s freaking out what the hell do I do?"
That was enough to rouse Dexter. "What did you do to him?"
"Nothing. He had a nightmare. Thank you for assuming it’s my fault. I appreciate your vote of confidence."
Dexter diplomatically decided against responding to that. "I don’t know, rub his back maybe, like you do me." I ran my fingers down Foster's spine. "No, with your hand doofus, it feels better." I snarled at him, I was not in the mood for trading insults. Dexter retreated again, but stayed awake, just in case.
I ran a trembling hand down Foster's back, as gently as I could. Then brought it up again, slid it into his hair before stroking back down. I wrapped my other arm around the smaller body, protectively. Somehow it was easier to be held like this, even though I still liked the sensation of being cuddled I didn’t feel half as pathetic when I was being the protective one.
“Are you two quite finished?” Foster asked in a choked voice, face buried in the rough skin of my chest.
“We’re talking about you, not to you.” I kissed his hair softly.
Foster chuckled fitfully between heaving breaths. He pulled me into the bed and crawled on top, still shaking. Quietly he buried his face back into my chest and clung to me, pushing the memory of the dream away and concentrating on the scent and feel of the present. I was a little confused, but kept stroking and touching, sticking to what worked. Eventually Foster calmed down completely.
“You okay?” I asked softly, there was no answer. I tried to move and was growled at, Foster pinned me down with his weight. I struggled for a moment before I realized he had fallen back asleep. "What now?" I asked Dexter. There was no answer, Dexter had dozed off too. Well that’s just perfect. I considered my predicament; I really didn’t want to wake Foster. But I couldn’t stay here. Maybe just a little longer. I thought quietly. I’m staying because he needs it, not because I want to. I’m just looking out for him; it’s no big deal. I’m not staying because I like it and he feels so good pressed against me. I’m not staying because I want to get as much of this as I can while nobody can see how much I crave it. I don’t need this, I can leave any time I want…
I was still rationalising the decision when the exhaustion of everything caught up with me. In a warm tangle of sticky sheets and tired limbs, two bodies and three people slept peacefully, probably looking a lot more angelic than we really deserved to.
Gabriel.
Foster is mine.
I heard an increasingly familiar knock on the door.
"No kids or medics today, I promise," he grinned when I opened the door to let him in.
"I have recovered sufficiently from my last exposure to them," I returned, sounding a little imperious and a lot amused. I looked much better, my clothing immaculate, my hair brushed, and my glasses set straight on my face. I am looking more and more put together as the weeks go by.
"Good, because even though I didn't bring a medic with me, he sent me something to give you."
I scanned the outside of the box for information before I opened it. But rather than look baffled, recognition sparked in my eyes. "Did he give you a reason for sending this to me?"
Foster shook his head. "No. All he said was I was supposed to give it to you. And that it wasn't a bribe. No pressure."
I went silent for some time, staring at the box and then staring at Foster, I had at least eight things to say and I couldn't settle on which needed to be said first. "Come with me," I murmured after a long pause, gesturing toward my bedroom.
I had rearranged things in my bedroom since the last time Foster had been in there, because it eased the sense of entrapment I felt. The bed was on the opposite side of the room, the headboard no longer blocking one of the windows on the other wall. Both windows were open now, with no curtains or blinds obstructing the wonderful view. Instead of the dark, secluded cavern it had been a few weeks ago, it felt more open, more relaxed. Sunlight bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.
Foster let out a breath he had been holding. "Nice," he said offhandedly.
I removed my glasses, folding them and setting them on the nightstand before crawling into my bed with the usual elegance that Foster has informed me is both arousing and downright irritating because, 'no one should be able to move with that kind of easy grace'. I stretched out over the top of the covers, my head flat on the mattress rather than resting on the pillows. "Join me," I offered, it was more of a question than an invitation.
Intrigued, Foster sat next to me, resting his hand over my right side so he could feel the low vibration of my heartbeat. "What is it?" he asked, gesturing to the box.
I said nothing as I opened it, drawing out a small bottle. Understanding dawned as I unscrewed the lid, revealing an eyedropper. "Jayden has been accessing my medical records again," I said, tilting my head back and letting three drops fall into each eye, squeezing them shut when I was done.
Foster took the bottle from me and screwed the cap back on, stashing it on my nightstand next to my glasses. "Allergies?" he guessed, since generally the only reason eyedroppers were ever used was to flush allergens and other irritants from the eye.
"No," I answered. My eyes remained closed, my hand pressed to Foster's at my side. "Bad eyesight," I flinched at the burning sensation, then continued, "It can be held at bay indefinitely with proper medication."
Foster was getting used to hearing what I wasn't saying. "You haven't been out to pick up your medication in awhile," he guessed. "You can't have it delivered? I mean, that's how you get everything else you need."
"I have relied upon the delivery of the generic prescription eyeglasses because most medics insist upon seeing me to ensure the dosage remains accurate. It seems Jayden has no such qualms."
Foster had a sly grin that took over his face. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said, shifting his hand so his fingers interlaced with mine. "He's trying to tell you something in his completely unsubtle kind of way."
I raised an eyebrow, even though my eyes were still closed. "Indeed?"
"Mhm. It's his way of proving himself. That he knows his remedies and dosages, that he knows the value of an educated guess. He can't know exactly how much of this stuff you need, so he gave it his best shot. Is it working?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?" He extracted his fingers from mine to trace along my jawline. "How come you haven't opened your eyes?"
"I am waiting for the stinging sensation to pass."
Foster loomed over me, I am assuming checking my face for any sign of pain. There was none to be found. "How bad does it hurt?"
"How badly," I corrected automatically. I couldn't be in that much pain if I was picking apart Foster's grammar. "The intensity is greater than I remembered. I am unsure if this is due to a fault in my memory or an alteration made due to the extended period of time since the last time I took the medication."
I didn't voice any fault with Jayden's handiwork. Foster kept smoothing his hand over my jaw, over my cheek, tracing the point of my ear. "You okay?"
I nodded, leaning into Foster's hand. My eyes cracked open, blinking several times in succession to clear the excess fluid from them. Tear tracks escaped from the corners of my eyes, but Foster knew that to be a side effect of the eye drops rather than a reaction to the pain. It didn't stop him from wiping them away, kissing the moisture from my temples.
"Foster," I murmured, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing gently, forcing Foster to part from me, he looked so...different.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, since I didn't generally break contact with him unless I was starting to have an attack. I nodded again, blinking a few more times before sitting up, angling myself until we were sitting face to face on the bed. My gaze swept over Foster's face, over his shoulders, surveying his clothing before returning to his face again. The intensity in my eyes made Foster squirm. "Gabriel?" he prompted.
A hand came up to explore Foster, not in the soothing, cradling way Foster had touched me, but starting at his forehead and tracing down the bridge of his nose, his lips, his jaw, until I'd mapped out his entire profile. Then I settled my fingers at Foster's temple, gazing into eyes. "You," I began to say, then shook my head and started again. "I will have to use the medication for two more days in order for it to fully restore my vision. But you are...clearer to me than you have been previously."
I gently pushed him so he was laying flat on his back.
It started with a kiss. It was brief, fleeting, not enough, but I often began that way. I leaned in just enough to press our mouths together, breaking from Foster before he could even kiss back. I stared at him for a moment, dark eyes sweeping over his face, gauging his reaction. Satisfied, I moved forward for another one. And another.
They got deeper every time our lips met, the sensations melting further and further under until I lost all sense of time. Reacquainting himself with that faintly metallic flavor of my mouth, licking it from my lips and suckling it from my tongue until I started making a soft, panting, desperate kind of noise. Foster's back pressed almost painfully against the headboard as I loomed over him and continued the slow, drowning kisses.
I found myself clinging to Foster like a lifeline. It didn't matter that we'd only recently entered into a sexual relationship, it didn't matter that I'd met Foster just a month ago. He was ingrained in me now, already a part of me even after such a relatively short span of time.
I clutched, I grabbed, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of his arms. I claimed his lips with a kind of ruthless adoration. My whole being stretched around Foster, embracing him. Foster set his teeth against the cords of my neck, muffling a groan into the bite mark he was leaving there, his fingers clenched so tightly in my black hair that anyone else would have whimpered in pain.
I whimpered, all right, or at the very least made a faint, desperate little sound. But I wasn't trying to shake Foster's hands off of me or even squirm in an attempt to make him loosen his grip. If anything, I was leaning into the grasping fingers, pressing against Foster's palms, silently asking to be held, grabbed, possessed. And despite my eager submission to such rough handling, I was cradling Foster's face in my hands like it was something precious to me. I pressed our foreheads together, closing my eyes.
He let his head drop, pressing his face against my neck and inhaling me with every breath he took. I could not possibly get any closer to him than I already was, and yet still I attempted to mold us together, to own him so thoroughly that there would never be any possibility of separation. I whispered against his shoulder, "Mine, you're mine, please say you're mine, don't ever leave, don't ever, don't ever..."
Soft, moist lips traced the curve of my ear, left a trail of kisses until they were nestled right against the shell. And then a deep voice answered me: "I am yours."
"No kids or medics today, I promise," he grinned when I opened the door to let him in.
"I have recovered sufficiently from my last exposure to them," I returned, sounding a little imperious and a lot amused. I looked much better, my clothing immaculate, my hair brushed, and my glasses set straight on my face. I am looking more and more put together as the weeks go by.
"Good, because even though I didn't bring a medic with me, he sent me something to give you."
I scanned the outside of the box for information before I opened it. But rather than look baffled, recognition sparked in my eyes. "Did he give you a reason for sending this to me?"
Foster shook his head. "No. All he said was I was supposed to give it to you. And that it wasn't a bribe. No pressure."
I went silent for some time, staring at the box and then staring at Foster, I had at least eight things to say and I couldn't settle on which needed to be said first. "Come with me," I murmured after a long pause, gesturing toward my bedroom.
I had rearranged things in my bedroom since the last time Foster had been in there, because it eased the sense of entrapment I felt. The bed was on the opposite side of the room, the headboard no longer blocking one of the windows on the other wall. Both windows were open now, with no curtains or blinds obstructing the wonderful view. Instead of the dark, secluded cavern it had been a few weeks ago, it felt more open, more relaxed. Sunlight bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.
Foster let out a breath he had been holding. "Nice," he said offhandedly.
I removed my glasses, folding them and setting them on the nightstand before crawling into my bed with the usual elegance that Foster has informed me is both arousing and downright irritating because, 'no one should be able to move with that kind of easy grace'. I stretched out over the top of the covers, my head flat on the mattress rather than resting on the pillows. "Join me," I offered, it was more of a question than an invitation.
Intrigued, Foster sat next to me, resting his hand over my right side so he could feel the low vibration of my heartbeat. "What is it?" he asked, gesturing to the box.
I said nothing as I opened it, drawing out a small bottle. Understanding dawned as I unscrewed the lid, revealing an eyedropper. "Jayden has been accessing my medical records again," I said, tilting my head back and letting three drops fall into each eye, squeezing them shut when I was done.
Foster took the bottle from me and screwed the cap back on, stashing it on my nightstand next to my glasses. "Allergies?" he guessed, since generally the only reason eyedroppers were ever used was to flush allergens and other irritants from the eye.
"No," I answered. My eyes remained closed, my hand pressed to Foster's at my side. "Bad eyesight," I flinched at the burning sensation, then continued, "It can be held at bay indefinitely with proper medication."
Foster was getting used to hearing what I wasn't saying. "You haven't been out to pick up your medication in awhile," he guessed. "You can't have it delivered? I mean, that's how you get everything else you need."
"I have relied upon the delivery of the generic prescription eyeglasses because most medics insist upon seeing me to ensure the dosage remains accurate. It seems Jayden has no such qualms."
Foster had a sly grin that took over his face. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said, shifting his hand so his fingers interlaced with mine. "He's trying to tell you something in his completely unsubtle kind of way."
I raised an eyebrow, even though my eyes were still closed. "Indeed?"
"Mhm. It's his way of proving himself. That he knows his remedies and dosages, that he knows the value of an educated guess. He can't know exactly how much of this stuff you need, so he gave it his best shot. Is it working?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?" He extracted his fingers from mine to trace along my jawline. "How come you haven't opened your eyes?"
"I am waiting for the stinging sensation to pass."
Foster loomed over me, I am assuming checking my face for any sign of pain. There was none to be found. "How bad does it hurt?"
"How badly," I corrected automatically. I couldn't be in that much pain if I was picking apart Foster's grammar. "The intensity is greater than I remembered. I am unsure if this is due to a fault in my memory or an alteration made due to the extended period of time since the last time I took the medication."
I didn't voice any fault with Jayden's handiwork. Foster kept smoothing his hand over my jaw, over my cheek, tracing the point of my ear. "You okay?"
I nodded, leaning into Foster's hand. My eyes cracked open, blinking several times in succession to clear the excess fluid from them. Tear tracks escaped from the corners of my eyes, but Foster knew that to be a side effect of the eye drops rather than a reaction to the pain. It didn't stop him from wiping them away, kissing the moisture from my temples.
"Foster," I murmured, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing gently, forcing Foster to part from me, he looked so...different.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, since I didn't generally break contact with him unless I was starting to have an attack. I nodded again, blinking a few more times before sitting up, angling myself until we were sitting face to face on the bed. My gaze swept over Foster's face, over his shoulders, surveying his clothing before returning to his face again. The intensity in my eyes made Foster squirm. "Gabriel?" he prompted.
A hand came up to explore Foster, not in the soothing, cradling way Foster had touched me, but starting at his forehead and tracing down the bridge of his nose, his lips, his jaw, until I'd mapped out his entire profile. Then I settled my fingers at Foster's temple, gazing into eyes. "You," I began to say, then shook my head and started again. "I will have to use the medication for two more days in order for it to fully restore my vision. But you are...clearer to me than you have been previously."
I gently pushed him so he was laying flat on his back.
It started with a kiss. It was brief, fleeting, not enough, but I often began that way. I leaned in just enough to press our mouths together, breaking from Foster before he could even kiss back. I stared at him for a moment, dark eyes sweeping over his face, gauging his reaction. Satisfied, I moved forward for another one. And another.
They got deeper every time our lips met, the sensations melting further and further under until I lost all sense of time. Reacquainting himself with that faintly metallic flavor of my mouth, licking it from my lips and suckling it from my tongue until I started making a soft, panting, desperate kind of noise. Foster's back pressed almost painfully against the headboard as I loomed over him and continued the slow, drowning kisses.
I found myself clinging to Foster like a lifeline. It didn't matter that we'd only recently entered into a sexual relationship, it didn't matter that I'd met Foster just a month ago. He was ingrained in me now, already a part of me even after such a relatively short span of time.
I clutched, I grabbed, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of his arms. I claimed his lips with a kind of ruthless adoration. My whole being stretched around Foster, embracing him. Foster set his teeth against the cords of my neck, muffling a groan into the bite mark he was leaving there, his fingers clenched so tightly in my black hair that anyone else would have whimpered in pain.
I whimpered, all right, or at the very least made a faint, desperate little sound. But I wasn't trying to shake Foster's hands off of me or even squirm in an attempt to make him loosen his grip. If anything, I was leaning into the grasping fingers, pressing against Foster's palms, silently asking to be held, grabbed, possessed. And despite my eager submission to such rough handling, I was cradling Foster's face in my hands like it was something precious to me. I pressed our foreheads together, closing my eyes.
He let his head drop, pressing his face against my neck and inhaling me with every breath he took. I could not possibly get any closer to him than I already was, and yet still I attempted to mold us together, to own him so thoroughly that there would never be any possibility of separation. I whispered against his shoulder, "Mine, you're mine, please say you're mine, don't ever leave, don't ever, don't ever..."
Soft, moist lips traced the curve of my ear, left a trail of kisses until they were nestled right against the shell. And then a deep voice answered me: "I am yours."
Order
The damn order of my entries has been screwed up somehow. Keep that in mind because some of this doesn't make sense when read in the wrong order.
This app is becoming increasingly annoying.
Gabriel.
This app is becoming increasingly annoying.
Gabriel.
April 20, 2013
A tea party.
Foster knocked on the door. I opened it fully without the cursory, suspicious inch first. I was clean, immaculate - a far cry from my disheveled, wild self when my anxiety took over. My gaze was fixed straight ahead for an instant, a brief look of surprise crossing my face before I looked down. I didn't smile, but I had a look of fondness softening my expression. "Hello, Eloise."
"Hi Mister Gabriel. Wanna come over for a tea party? Uncle Foster said it was okay." And she pointed at him as if to clear up any confusion regarding who she was referring to.
Foster gave an amused kind of shrug when I looked at him. "I said it was okay to invite you over for tea. Not so much the party part."
"I didn't even bring Fluffy Pants with me today," Eloise pouted from where she was planted in front of my apartment. "And I don't have any ribbons, either."
Now I just stood there looking baffled. "Fluffy...Pants?"
Foster couldn't quite suppress his laughter. "Her stuffed rabbit. He suffers through quite a few tea parties. And I told her she wasn't allowed to put ribbons in your hair." He said, then adding, "She will try if you let her."
"That was our Christmas card last year! I put lots of ribbons and stuff in Uncle Foster's hair and we took a picture. We didn't know you yet, Mister Gabriel, or you would have gotten one too."
"Indeed." Was all I could think to say.
Foster shook his head. "Eloise? Mister Gabriel can't accept your invitation if you keep talking his ears off."
She clasped both hands over her mouth and looked up at my with huge, pleading eyes.
"I am honored by your invitation," I told her, eminently formal even as I was fighting down the urge to smile at her.
"Eeee!" came the excited squeal from behind Eloise's hands, and she tore back into Foster's apartment.
"I guess she figured that was a yes." Foster took a moment to steal a kiss while Eloise wasn't looking. "She really missed you. And I thought you might like to spend some time with her."
I nodded, cheeks going red at being kissed in front of an audience, even if the audience hadn't been paying attention at the time. "She has improved since the last time I saw her."
"So have you."
Before I could respond to that, Eloise piped up from the kitchen. "Uncle Foster? You gonna come make some tea or what?"
"Man, you're bossy today," he called back, making his way to the kitchen with me following closely behind. "Why don't you keep Mister Gabriel busy and I'll deal with the drinks?"
"Okay." She turned her full attention on me. "When it snows, can you stand on top of it without leaving footprints?"
Foster didn't fully cover his snicker under a cough as he pulled out a few mismatched mugs and some tea bags.
I wasn't at all offended, settling myself in one of the kitchen chairs so I was closer to her level when I replied. "I have a heavier bone and muscle structure than you do. I am, in fact, more likely to leave footprints in snow than you are."
"Oh." She crawled up on my chair, her feet balancing on the rung and her hands on my knees for support. "Do you sing at trees?"
"Elle? Did you ask before you invaded Mister Gabriel's personal space?" Foster piped up.
"I'm not invading! I'm balancing," she informed him.
I waved off Foster's protest. "Her dismissal of personal space is not in the least bit bothersome," I assured him, then answered her question before she could ask him to translate. "There are very few trees where I come from. However, there are several songs dedicated to the deserts and the mountains. My mother was always fond of the Mountain Lullaby."
"My daddy likes the Alabama Lullaby."
"Sweet Home Alabama isn't a lullaby," Foster told her, setting a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. "And there's your tea."
I raised an eyebrow. "That is not-"
"It's tea," Foster interrupted me, giving me a stern look. "Tea for picky four year olds, anyway." He set another mug in front of me. "We're drinking the grownup kind."
Eloise wrinkled her nose at it. "That stuff smells like daddy's doctor bag."
"Which is why you get special tea and not regular tea," Foster told her, kissing the top of her head before sitting in the other chair.
"Hmph." She took a sip from her mug and then continued her interrogation with me. "You wanna know what my daddy calls you?"
Foster clearly sensed danger. "Elle-"
"He calls you a gobhoblin. Hobgoblin. Somethin' like that. They have green blood. Do you have green blood, too?"
My eyebrows were raised again. Foster tried to do some damage control. "That's just how he operates. If he's thought up some kind of derogatory nickname for you, that means he likes you. He calls me an idiot all the time. It's a sign of affection coming from him."
"He calls me a brat!" Eloise added cheerfully. "And ibnosh... obnosh... ignosis," she tripped over the word.
"Obnoxious," I corrected her.
"Yep, that one. Do you have green blood?" she asked again, trying to keep us easily distracted adults on topic.
I took a long sip from my mug, trying to compose myself. "I do not."
"Does blood come in other colors, too?"
Foster was saved from his explanation by a knock on the door.
"Daddy!" Eloise squealed, dropping her mug back on the table and making a beeline for the door.
I looked distinctly uncomfortable, my gaze darting from my own mug of tea, to the living room, then back again. I had been fairly composed during Eloise's rapid-fire questioning, but now I was taking on that familiar, anxious look. "I-"
Foster scooted his chair closer, wrapping his hands around mine on my lap, trying to project whatever level of calm he could. "That'll be Jayden coming to pick her up," he said, unnecessarily considering Eloise's squealing. "You don't have to leave the kitchen if you don't want to. I can head out there and deal with him alone. But he would like to meet you, if you're okay with that."
I couldn't look at him, my eyes fixed but unfocused on our hands in my lap. I was silent for a long time, concentrating on something I knew Foster couldn't perceive. "He is not here for a medical visit?" I finally asked.
"He's here to pick up his daughter. But he's a doctor - he'll probably go a little medical on you even if he's not here for that purpose. He still wants to help you."
I swallowed, my fingers trembling faintly under Foster's.
"He's not here to poke or prod at you, if that was what you were asking," Foster continued. "He'll probably ask a few questions, maybe make a few suggestions, and then he'll take Eloise home. It's not a big involved medical visit, I promise. And if he starts turning it into one, I'll kick him out." He said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, relieved when I didn't twitch away from the physical contact. "He's not going to storm in and judge you. He just thinks that you should be able to handle your emotions without losing it all the time."
It took an age, but I inclined my head in the briefest of nods. "Very well."
Foster stood and offered a hand to me. "I'll be there with you. And you're welcome to leave at any time if you need to freak out in the bathroom or something. No one will mind, I promise."
I nodded again, fitting my hand into Foster's and allowing myself to be pulled from the chair. I didn't let go of his hand when we entered the living room, instead I kept a firm grip on him as if Foster was holding me together through the touch of our fingers. "Hey Jayden," Foster said, going for casual, I was certain he was failing.
"You fed her ice cream," was the accusing response, Eloise balanced on his hip looking anything but innocent.
"What makes you think so?" Foster replied.
"She has chocolate breath."
"That's from tea, Daddy," Eloise informed him, licking her lips. "The ice cream was strawberry."
"Eloise, you are the second worst secret keeper I've ever met." He tried to change the subject before he went on a rant about his daughter's sugar intake. "This is Gabriel, by the way. Gabriel, this is Jayden."
I made no move to pull my hand away to shake Jayden's, and it took a moment before Foster remembered how horrified I was when it came to shaking hands. "Foster speaks of you a great deal," I said, my gaze not quite meeting his.
"Bullshit."
"Daddy!" Eloise admonished him, looking scandalized.
"As if you haven't heard worse comin' out of your mother's mouth," he muttered, setting her back on the floor. "Do me a favor. Head back to Foster's room and make sure you know those ballet positions by heart. All eight of 'em. I'll call you when I'm ready to go."
"There's five," she corrected, but she took off toward the back of the apartment anyway.
"Teaching her some interesting vocabulary for a preschooler," Foster made fun of his parenting skills.
"Shut up. Amy is worse and you know it." He grabbed a medical file from his bag and shifted the conversation toward me. "Here's what my colleague and I have been researching in our off-duty hours. Based on your symptoms, she thinks you should be sleeping and meditating a hell of a lot more, but I hear Foster told you that already."
I blinked, looking as thrown off as I felt. "Affirmative."
"Affirmative," Jayden grumbled to himself before continuing. "So if that doesn't work fast enough for you, there's another option. You know what a benzodiazepine is?"
I squeezed Foster's hand, the first outward sign I'd shown of anxiety. "It is a anti-anxiety drug." The hand in Foster's squeezed tighter and Foster could feel the fingers shaking in his own. "I am unsure of the specifics, as medicine was not one of the focal points of my studies, but it is my understanding that it temporarily slows brain activity until the individual has his or her mental controls and shields back in place."
Jayden scanned through his pages a few times, apparently making sure that he and I were talking about the same drug. "Right," he said once he had confirmed it. "We're thinking we could start playing around with it, see if it helps you out. Not at full strength, obviously." He closed the file, focusing on me instead. "The thing is, we have no way of knowing exact numbers unless we experiment with it a little. Now, I know you're not a fan of medics. But if you're up to it, I'd like to try tinkering with some dosages to see if they help. If not we can ditch the whole idea, but I think it's worth a try."
"I..." I trailed off, my stoic expression was gone and replaced with the dreaded fight-or-flight response wavering in my eyes. "I do not..." I looked at Foster for help, my hand squeezing Foster's hard enough to leave bruises.
"We don't have to discuss this now," Foster assured me. "It's just something to think about. We can figure it out later, if you want. Or not at all."
"You do not..." I tried again, directing it at Jayden this time. But I couldn't get the words out, the trembling spreading up my arm and into my shoulders. The bones in Foster's hand creaked in protest at the pressure being exerted against them.
"Bathroom's free," Foster whispered in my ear, giving me the exit I so desperately needed. "I'll get Jayden and Eloise out of here and I'll be there in a few minutes."
I didn't look at either one of them as I pulled my hand away from Foster's and almost ran for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.
Foster locked the door of his apartment before heading to the bathroom, knocking on the door quietly. "Hey Gabriel? They're gone now. And I can't get in there unless you unlock the door."
I shuffled across the tile floor and unlocked the door. I was leaning heavily against the wall when the door opened, my skin pale and sallow. "Eloise," I explained hoarsely.
"Oh, right. Hadn't thought of that." The last thing Eloise needed to see was me in the midst of an episode, and the last thing I needed was Eloise as an audience. "You need to stay in here for a bit? Or can you come out?"
I looked past Foster's shoulder for a moment before shaking my head. "I..." I gave up on speaking, heaving my body from where it was supported by the wall and sitting in front of the toilet again, my limbs limp and exhausted.
Foster let out a long, shaky breath, moving to sit beside me. He sifted one hand into my hair, massaging my scalp and the back of my neck while he spoke. "Sorry about Jayden. He turns into an information dump when he goes into doctor mode. And he's not exactly known for his table manners."
"Indeed." It was choked out more than anything, but I was leaning my head back into Foster's hand, soaking up the comfort. "I did not expect such...insistence."
"Sorry," he said again. "Now you know where Elle gets it from. I was surprised you didn't get more flustered over all her questions."
I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it as my face paled. I swallowed down the urge to puke again, closing my eyes and leaning bodily against Foster. "She is... She is nothing like the children I g-grew up with," I explained, stuttering on some of the words. "It is...comforting, in a way, to speak with her."
"Were you bullied a lot as a kid?"
"They were...were wary of a person who is...different. I was, for the most part, ignored rather than abused."
"For the most part?" Foster repeated, having latched on to what he considered the important part of that sentence. "Was there anyone who didn't treat you like crap?"
"I was not completely alone." The trembling eased slowly as I spoke, leaning my head and body further and further against Foster's until Foster was almost cradling me against his side.
Foster waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. He kissed my temple, nuzzling into my hair. "Feeling better now? Can we go somewhere else? My ass is sore from sitting on this damn tile."
I didn't crack a smile, but the corners of my mouth twitched faintly because I wished to, but I just couldn't expend the energy. "I believe....I believe the worst of the nausea has passed."
"Good. You wanna go to bed? Rest for a little while? I know it's early, but..."
"No." I opened my eyes, staring at the latch on the bathroom door. "I do not feel the need to sleep. Perhaps...the window?"
Foster's fond grin took over his face, kissing my cheek. I loved the view from that window. "Sure, let's go."
Sitting on the carpeted floor wasn't a whole lot better than sitting on the tile, but we had a few cushions left from when we'd last sat there so it wasn't quite as bad. And Foster certainly wasn't going to complain when he had me seated between his legs, the heat of my back warming his chest, our fingers tangled together in a simple desire for touch.
Foster traced his fingers over my knuckles and watched me shiver at the sensation. "It just doesn't sit well with him to see someone suffering when he can help. I know he came off as a gruff jerk, but his heart's in the right place."
"I should hope so, considering he is a medical professional."
Foster laughed at the unexpected joke, muffling it in the back of my head. "And you said you didn't have a sense of humor."
Foster kissed the tips of my ears to soften whatever blow he might inadvertently make when he responded. "So I guess...I guess the question is, is it better to medicate yourself to get past this? Or is it better if you try to do it on your own, but it takes a lot longer?"
"I do not know," was the defeated answer, I sagging against him as if the discussion had stole all of my energy. I went silent again, my fingers sliding along Foster's in an unconscious display of affection. Foster pressed his nose into the tame black of my hair, letting me think for awhile.
"Foster?"
"Hmm?"
"I would like to meditate on this. May I..." I stopped, started up again. "Is it acceptable if I remain here?"
Foster smiled against the back of my head. "I should've said this awhile ago, but you have an open invitation to be here whenever you want, for as long as you want. No restrictions. Even if I'm off somewhere else, you're welcome here. I'll give you a key for the door."
I relaxed even further against him, squeezing his fingers gently. "Then, if you are not otherwise occupied...will you remain here?"
It took Foster a moment to respond. "While you meditate, you mean?"
"Yes. I find...I find it is significantly easier to achieve a meditative trance when you are nearby, an ease magnified by your increased proximity."
"You meditate better when I'm around? Even when I'm touching you?"
"I believe I said that."
He suppressed a laugh. "I'm surprised all my unorganized thinking doesn't distract you from what you're trying to do."
My hand unfolded from Foster's, shifting until our hands were pressed with our palms and fingers flat against one another. There was a sudden projection of warmth, affection, security, unity flowing through me. "I have found your particular type of mental activity quite gratifying, if different from my own."
He couldn't suppress the laugh then. "So you're saying you love me for my mind?"
I said nothing in response, though the affection written on my face had a distinctly amused look to it before I closed my eyes, dropping into his meditative trance within moments.
"That's one way to avoid a discussion, I guess," Foster muttered, nuzzling back into my hair and waiting for me to return.
Gabriel.
"Hi Mister Gabriel. Wanna come over for a tea party? Uncle Foster said it was okay." And she pointed at him as if to clear up any confusion regarding who she was referring to.
Foster gave an amused kind of shrug when I looked at him. "I said it was okay to invite you over for tea. Not so much the party part."
"I didn't even bring Fluffy Pants with me today," Eloise pouted from where she was planted in front of my apartment. "And I don't have any ribbons, either."
Now I just stood there looking baffled. "Fluffy...Pants?"
Foster couldn't quite suppress his laughter. "Her stuffed rabbit. He suffers through quite a few tea parties. And I told her she wasn't allowed to put ribbons in your hair." He said, then adding, "She will try if you let her."
"That was our Christmas card last year! I put lots of ribbons and stuff in Uncle Foster's hair and we took a picture. We didn't know you yet, Mister Gabriel, or you would have gotten one too."
"Indeed." Was all I could think to say.
Foster shook his head. "Eloise? Mister Gabriel can't accept your invitation if you keep talking his ears off."
She clasped both hands over her mouth and looked up at my with huge, pleading eyes.
"I am honored by your invitation," I told her, eminently formal even as I was fighting down the urge to smile at her.
"Eeee!" came the excited squeal from behind Eloise's hands, and she tore back into Foster's apartment.
"I guess she figured that was a yes." Foster took a moment to steal a kiss while Eloise wasn't looking. "She really missed you. And I thought you might like to spend some time with her."
I nodded, cheeks going red at being kissed in front of an audience, even if the audience hadn't been paying attention at the time. "She has improved since the last time I saw her."
"So have you."
Before I could respond to that, Eloise piped up from the kitchen. "Uncle Foster? You gonna come make some tea or what?"
"Man, you're bossy today," he called back, making his way to the kitchen with me following closely behind. "Why don't you keep Mister Gabriel busy and I'll deal with the drinks?"
"Okay." She turned her full attention on me. "When it snows, can you stand on top of it without leaving footprints?"
Foster didn't fully cover his snicker under a cough as he pulled out a few mismatched mugs and some tea bags.
I wasn't at all offended, settling myself in one of the kitchen chairs so I was closer to her level when I replied. "I have a heavier bone and muscle structure than you do. I am, in fact, more likely to leave footprints in snow than you are."
"Oh." She crawled up on my chair, her feet balancing on the rung and her hands on my knees for support. "Do you sing at trees?"
"Elle? Did you ask before you invaded Mister Gabriel's personal space?" Foster piped up.
"I'm not invading! I'm balancing," she informed him.
I waved off Foster's protest. "Her dismissal of personal space is not in the least bit bothersome," I assured him, then answered her question before she could ask him to translate. "There are very few trees where I come from. However, there are several songs dedicated to the deserts and the mountains. My mother was always fond of the Mountain Lullaby."
"My daddy likes the Alabama Lullaby."
"Sweet Home Alabama isn't a lullaby," Foster told her, setting a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. "And there's your tea."
I raised an eyebrow. "That is not-"
"It's tea," Foster interrupted me, giving me a stern look. "Tea for picky four year olds, anyway." He set another mug in front of me. "We're drinking the grownup kind."
Eloise wrinkled her nose at it. "That stuff smells like daddy's doctor bag."
"Which is why you get special tea and not regular tea," Foster told her, kissing the top of her head before sitting in the other chair.
"Hmph." She took a sip from her mug and then continued her interrogation with me. "You wanna know what my daddy calls you?"
Foster clearly sensed danger. "Elle-"
"He calls you a gobhoblin. Hobgoblin. Somethin' like that. They have green blood. Do you have green blood, too?"
My eyebrows were raised again. Foster tried to do some damage control. "That's just how he operates. If he's thought up some kind of derogatory nickname for you, that means he likes you. He calls me an idiot all the time. It's a sign of affection coming from him."
"He calls me a brat!" Eloise added cheerfully. "And ibnosh... obnosh... ignosis," she tripped over the word.
"Obnoxious," I corrected her.
"Yep, that one. Do you have green blood?" she asked again, trying to keep us easily distracted adults on topic.
I took a long sip from my mug, trying to compose myself. "I do not."
"Does blood come in other colors, too?"
Foster was saved from his explanation by a knock on the door.
"Daddy!" Eloise squealed, dropping her mug back on the table and making a beeline for the door.
I looked distinctly uncomfortable, my gaze darting from my own mug of tea, to the living room, then back again. I had been fairly composed during Eloise's rapid-fire questioning, but now I was taking on that familiar, anxious look. "I-"
Foster scooted his chair closer, wrapping his hands around mine on my lap, trying to project whatever level of calm he could. "That'll be Jayden coming to pick her up," he said, unnecessarily considering Eloise's squealing. "You don't have to leave the kitchen if you don't want to. I can head out there and deal with him alone. But he would like to meet you, if you're okay with that."
I couldn't look at him, my eyes fixed but unfocused on our hands in my lap. I was silent for a long time, concentrating on something I knew Foster couldn't perceive. "He is not here for a medical visit?" I finally asked.
"He's here to pick up his daughter. But he's a doctor - he'll probably go a little medical on you even if he's not here for that purpose. He still wants to help you."
I swallowed, my fingers trembling faintly under Foster's.
"He's not here to poke or prod at you, if that was what you were asking," Foster continued. "He'll probably ask a few questions, maybe make a few suggestions, and then he'll take Eloise home. It's not a big involved medical visit, I promise. And if he starts turning it into one, I'll kick him out." He said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, relieved when I didn't twitch away from the physical contact. "He's not going to storm in and judge you. He just thinks that you should be able to handle your emotions without losing it all the time."
It took an age, but I inclined my head in the briefest of nods. "Very well."
Foster stood and offered a hand to me. "I'll be there with you. And you're welcome to leave at any time if you need to freak out in the bathroom or something. No one will mind, I promise."
I nodded again, fitting my hand into Foster's and allowing myself to be pulled from the chair. I didn't let go of his hand when we entered the living room, instead I kept a firm grip on him as if Foster was holding me together through the touch of our fingers. "Hey Jayden," Foster said, going for casual, I was certain he was failing.
"You fed her ice cream," was the accusing response, Eloise balanced on his hip looking anything but innocent.
"What makes you think so?" Foster replied.
"She has chocolate breath."
"That's from tea, Daddy," Eloise informed him, licking her lips. "The ice cream was strawberry."
"Eloise, you are the second worst secret keeper I've ever met." He tried to change the subject before he went on a rant about his daughter's sugar intake. "This is Gabriel, by the way. Gabriel, this is Jayden."
I made no move to pull my hand away to shake Jayden's, and it took a moment before Foster remembered how horrified I was when it came to shaking hands. "Foster speaks of you a great deal," I said, my gaze not quite meeting his.
"Bullshit."
"Daddy!" Eloise admonished him, looking scandalized.
"As if you haven't heard worse comin' out of your mother's mouth," he muttered, setting her back on the floor. "Do me a favor. Head back to Foster's room and make sure you know those ballet positions by heart. All eight of 'em. I'll call you when I'm ready to go."
"There's five," she corrected, but she took off toward the back of the apartment anyway.
"Teaching her some interesting vocabulary for a preschooler," Foster made fun of his parenting skills.
"Shut up. Amy is worse and you know it." He grabbed a medical file from his bag and shifted the conversation toward me. "Here's what my colleague and I have been researching in our off-duty hours. Based on your symptoms, she thinks you should be sleeping and meditating a hell of a lot more, but I hear Foster told you that already."
I blinked, looking as thrown off as I felt. "Affirmative."
"Affirmative," Jayden grumbled to himself before continuing. "So if that doesn't work fast enough for you, there's another option. You know what a benzodiazepine is?"
I squeezed Foster's hand, the first outward sign I'd shown of anxiety. "It is a anti-anxiety drug." The hand in Foster's squeezed tighter and Foster could feel the fingers shaking in his own. "I am unsure of the specifics, as medicine was not one of the focal points of my studies, but it is my understanding that it temporarily slows brain activity until the individual has his or her mental controls and shields back in place."
Jayden scanned through his pages a few times, apparently making sure that he and I were talking about the same drug. "Right," he said once he had confirmed it. "We're thinking we could start playing around with it, see if it helps you out. Not at full strength, obviously." He closed the file, focusing on me instead. "The thing is, we have no way of knowing exact numbers unless we experiment with it a little. Now, I know you're not a fan of medics. But if you're up to it, I'd like to try tinkering with some dosages to see if they help. If not we can ditch the whole idea, but I think it's worth a try."
"I..." I trailed off, my stoic expression was gone and replaced with the dreaded fight-or-flight response wavering in my eyes. "I do not..." I looked at Foster for help, my hand squeezing Foster's hard enough to leave bruises.
"We don't have to discuss this now," Foster assured me. "It's just something to think about. We can figure it out later, if you want. Or not at all."
"You do not..." I tried again, directing it at Jayden this time. But I couldn't get the words out, the trembling spreading up my arm and into my shoulders. The bones in Foster's hand creaked in protest at the pressure being exerted against them.
"Bathroom's free," Foster whispered in my ear, giving me the exit I so desperately needed. "I'll get Jayden and Eloise out of here and I'll be there in a few minutes."
I didn't look at either one of them as I pulled my hand away from Foster's and almost ran for the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.
Foster locked the door of his apartment before heading to the bathroom, knocking on the door quietly. "Hey Gabriel? They're gone now. And I can't get in there unless you unlock the door."
I shuffled across the tile floor and unlocked the door. I was leaning heavily against the wall when the door opened, my skin pale and sallow. "Eloise," I explained hoarsely.
"Oh, right. Hadn't thought of that." The last thing Eloise needed to see was me in the midst of an episode, and the last thing I needed was Eloise as an audience. "You need to stay in here for a bit? Or can you come out?"
I looked past Foster's shoulder for a moment before shaking my head. "I..." I gave up on speaking, heaving my body from where it was supported by the wall and sitting in front of the toilet again, my limbs limp and exhausted.
Foster let out a long, shaky breath, moving to sit beside me. He sifted one hand into my hair, massaging my scalp and the back of my neck while he spoke. "Sorry about Jayden. He turns into an information dump when he goes into doctor mode. And he's not exactly known for his table manners."
"Indeed." It was choked out more than anything, but I was leaning my head back into Foster's hand, soaking up the comfort. "I did not expect such...insistence."
"Sorry," he said again. "Now you know where Elle gets it from. I was surprised you didn't get more flustered over all her questions."
I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it as my face paled. I swallowed down the urge to puke again, closing my eyes and leaning bodily against Foster. "She is... She is nothing like the children I g-grew up with," I explained, stuttering on some of the words. "It is...comforting, in a way, to speak with her."
"Were you bullied a lot as a kid?"
"They were...were wary of a person who is...different. I was, for the most part, ignored rather than abused."
"For the most part?" Foster repeated, having latched on to what he considered the important part of that sentence. "Was there anyone who didn't treat you like crap?"
"I was not completely alone." The trembling eased slowly as I spoke, leaning my head and body further and further against Foster's until Foster was almost cradling me against his side.
Foster waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming. He kissed my temple, nuzzling into my hair. "Feeling better now? Can we go somewhere else? My ass is sore from sitting on this damn tile."
I didn't crack a smile, but the corners of my mouth twitched faintly because I wished to, but I just couldn't expend the energy. "I believe....I believe the worst of the nausea has passed."
"Good. You wanna go to bed? Rest for a little while? I know it's early, but..."
"No." I opened my eyes, staring at the latch on the bathroom door. "I do not feel the need to sleep. Perhaps...the window?"
Foster's fond grin took over his face, kissing my cheek. I loved the view from that window. "Sure, let's go."
Sitting on the carpeted floor wasn't a whole lot better than sitting on the tile, but we had a few cushions left from when we'd last sat there so it wasn't quite as bad. And Foster certainly wasn't going to complain when he had me seated between his legs, the heat of my back warming his chest, our fingers tangled together in a simple desire for touch.
Foster traced his fingers over my knuckles and watched me shiver at the sensation. "It just doesn't sit well with him to see someone suffering when he can help. I know he came off as a gruff jerk, but his heart's in the right place."
"I should hope so, considering he is a medical professional."
Foster laughed at the unexpected joke, muffling it in the back of my head. "And you said you didn't have a sense of humor."
Foster kissed the tips of my ears to soften whatever blow he might inadvertently make when he responded. "So I guess...I guess the question is, is it better to medicate yourself to get past this? Or is it better if you try to do it on your own, but it takes a lot longer?"
"I do not know," was the defeated answer, I sagging against him as if the discussion had stole all of my energy. I went silent again, my fingers sliding along Foster's in an unconscious display of affection. Foster pressed his nose into the tame black of my hair, letting me think for awhile.
"Foster?"
"Hmm?"
"I would like to meditate on this. May I..." I stopped, started up again. "Is it acceptable if I remain here?"
Foster smiled against the back of my head. "I should've said this awhile ago, but you have an open invitation to be here whenever you want, for as long as you want. No restrictions. Even if I'm off somewhere else, you're welcome here. I'll give you a key for the door."
I relaxed even further against him, squeezing his fingers gently. "Then, if you are not otherwise occupied...will you remain here?"
It took Foster a moment to respond. "While you meditate, you mean?"
"Yes. I find...I find it is significantly easier to achieve a meditative trance when you are nearby, an ease magnified by your increased proximity."
"You meditate better when I'm around? Even when I'm touching you?"
"I believe I said that."
He suppressed a laugh. "I'm surprised all my unorganized thinking doesn't distract you from what you're trying to do."
My hand unfolded from Foster's, shifting until our hands were pressed with our palms and fingers flat against one another. There was a sudden projection of warmth, affection, security, unity flowing through me. "I have found your particular type of mental activity quite gratifying, if different from my own."
He couldn't suppress the laugh then. "So you're saying you love me for my mind?"
I said nothing in response, though the affection written on my face had a distinctly amused look to it before I closed my eyes, dropping into his meditative trance within moments.
"That's one way to avoid a discussion, I guess," Foster muttered, nuzzling back into my hair and waiting for me to return.
Gabriel.
Contact...and a lazy morning.
Apparently Foster has taken an interest in my health. He has accessed all my medical records (without my permission).
I heard a knock on the door, it was louder then usual.
I opened the door, Foster was surprised when it only opened a crack, I peered out at him the same way I had done before we became closer. "Foster." I was even more worn down than I had been a few days ago when he had stopped by to see me, eyes bloodshot, skin pale.
"Hey," he said softly. "Can I come in?"
I almost cringed, then belatedly tried to prevent myself from doing so. "Yes," I answered, not meeting his eyes as I stepped aside to let him through.
He waited until the door had been closed and locked behind me before he reached out and pressed a hand to my cheek, trying to get me to meet his eyes. "I've been neglecting you," he murmured, trying to project the sincerity of his apology. "And I'm sorry. It was the last week of the semester and you know how huge my courses are."
"Yes," I repeated. I leaned into the contact that I starved for it but still couldn't meet his eyes.
He gave me what I was so obviously screaming for, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pulling me in close, nuzzling his cheek against mine, silently willing me not to shut down on him, not to panic. "I learned something about you this afternoon," he breathed against one of my ears, keeping his voice low and soothing.
I was clinging to him like I never had before, not even in the depths of my worst episodes. I was soaking up the physical contact like a sponge, eyes closed as I molded myself into Foster's body.
"What?" I whispered.
"Your past." He shifted a bit, pressed our foreheads together and watched me closely. "How come you didn't tell me?"
I let loose a minuscule gasp, it sounded as if it had been ripped from my chest before I stopped it. I swallowed hard, the lines at my eyes deepening as I fought for control. "I did not...I am..." I tried again. "I did not th-think it would be necessary."
He wrapped both arms around my waist, "Why wouldn't you think it was necessary? Didn't you...?" He stopped himself. "...want me to know?" he finished.
"Yes," I whispered, the word sounded extremely painful.
"I'd like to know more about you," he said quietly, kissing my temple.
"What do y-you wanna know?" I finally cracked my eyes open, the vulnerability visible but I got it back under control.
"Whatever you want me to know." He replied, his words lingered in my mind. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to know.
"Very well." I was back to clipped, anxious responses, and I was also too exhausted to argue the matter.
I pulled away from him stiffly, I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together as I led him toward my bedroom. "How much do you already know?"
"I know that someone beat you up a lot." He said, not going into detail.
I shook my head minutely, sitting at the foot of my bed and gesturing for Foster to join me. "There are...are certain risks..." My speech was still awkward, stilted. "Are you aware of them?"
"Um...no not really." He didn't understand.
"I may get really worked up, and I..." I trailed off trying to gather my strength before saying the rest, "I-I don't want you to leave me."
He settled one hand on top of mine on my lap, bracing it there. He curled the other into my hair, cradling the back of my skull, trying to will me to relax. "Hey," he murmured softly. "It's okay. You can be as emotional as you need to be and it isn't going to send me running."
I was shuddering all over, swallowing hard as I tried to keep myself together. "The l-last time I..."
He leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. "I can handle whatever feelings you want to throw at me."
The look of total desperation in my eyes stabbed at him, I wanted to believe him but I couldn't bring myself to. I was still trembling faintly. "Denken, Gabriel, die Vergangenheit." I whispered to myself in German, squeezing my eyes closed.
There was a startling blankness to my thoughts, as if my mind were some sort of light that had just been switched off. Time stretched endlessly as I remained perfectly still. I was beginning to wonder what the big deal was when-
Bits and pieces of memory started to surface along the river of chaos in my mind.
"I was utterly alone with my emotions, unable to control them, unable to find an anchor I could hold onto in order to even try." I was speaking in a monotonous, almost robotic voice. "I was trapped within my own mind, my mind prisoner within my own body, my body prisoner within a cage of its own, familiar walls that never changed, that never allowed me to leave, my bed full of memories and pleasure and pain and broken and a kind of mental agony, it is so much more than I could possibly bear-"
"Gabriel. Gabriel, I'm here. Gabriel-" Foster said, but instead of drawing me out of my trance he caused an entirely different set of thoughts.
"Foster! Freedom in the stars, exhilaration under the night sky. Want, desire, affection, need- no! Rejection, fear, alone. Caged, bound to hell. Home, center, hello, welcome, bed. Bed, rejection, distance, dissolution, pain. Pain of the mind, pain of the body, pain of the deepest part of self where Eden is no more. Gone and yet not gone, a voluntary severance, and the mind bleeds, bleeds, bleeds into the nothingness on the other side. Alone and yet not alone, traces of it everywhere, in this room, in this bed, in the walls, in the air, and yet one cannot leave because out there is the cause, out there are the emotions that batter against the controls, out there are the reasons why in here is a cage and out there is a wasteland, no safety to be found anywhere-"
I knew that Foster's body was shuddering violently, I knew he was choking, sobbing. I tried to draw on those physicalities, but it still wasn't enough for me to come out of my trance.
Foster spoke of the memories of our night on the rooftop, of how totally at ease I had been, of the endless vista of stars that stretched out above us. He spoke of the softness in my eyes, the sensation of my hands and mouth over his skin. He tried to gather up all the held back desire, all the affection, all the heartbreaking love that he felt for me and pushed it at me.
Several things happened at once. I felt as if some sort of explosion had gone off in the base of my skull, and the agony of it distracted me from the sudden blankness of thought. I wrenched my hands away from Foster's hands. And the sudden lack of physical contact alerted Foster to the fact that I had just vomited all over the sheets.
It took several minutes before Foster could act, letting out a long, wet, shuddering sigh as he pulled himself back together. He tugged me up from my perch on the bed, leading me over to the wall and helping me sit on the floor there. Wiping the last of the wetness from his eyes, he stripped the bed as quickly and efficiently as he could, shoving them down the nearby laundry chute before the smell could spread around the room. He stood in front of the chute for several minutes, I'm assuming he was trying to piece himself back together, to comprehend all that he had just seen, heard, felt.
He made his way back to me on the floor, sitting next to me and pulling me so my head was in his lap. "We're leaving," he informed me quietly.
I shuddered, pressing my face against Foster's thigh, my fingers digging bruises into his legs where I was clinging to them.
"We're leaving," he repeated undeterred. "Both of us. You tell me when you're ready and we'll go. I want to tell you a few things, but I won't do it here."
"Why?" I rasped, the pain still evident in my voice.
"Because this isn't your safe haven. It's just the lesser of all evils as far as you're concerned. And I don't want to talk to you in a place where you're still miserable. So you tell me when you can manage to walk, and we'll go."
"To the roof?" I asked, and the feeble hope in my voice pierced him.
"Maybe some other time, when we can arrange it so no one will bother us when we get there." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to one of my ears. "We're going to my place. We're going to head back to my bedroom, to my bed, and I'm going to show you what I see, what I feel when I think of you. And you're going to hear it in a place where your demons aren't there to distract you." He paused, rubbing at his forehead. "And I'm gonna fill myself up with aspirin."
I was silent for a long time, I had shut down my mental processes as a defense mechanism. But after an age had passed, I whispered in the air.
"I am ready."
I was too exhausted to panic by the time Foster led me out of my apartment. I barely reacted at all as he pulled me from my room and back into Foster's room. My blank expression remained as Foster guided me to the bedroom, pushing me to sit at the foot of the bed while he dug around for his much needed aspirin.
"You have been speaking with the doctor," I observed, my voice low and monotone.
"Yeah. He's the one who clued me in about your past." He swallowed three pills. "He wants to meet you sometime, by the way. To growl at you about not taking proper care of yourself. Try not to get too offended about that when it happens - it's just what he does."
I said nothing, watching Foster blankly as he moved around his bedroom, stowing the pill bottle in a drawer before sitting next to me.
"Hey," he said softly, taking my clammy hands in his own. "Talk to me."
"What do you wish me to say?"
"How bad were things for you?"
I stared at our hands resting in Foster's lap. "I-I was....it was...he was...Foster, you cannot know."
Foster's face twisted into a sad kind of smile at that, leaning forward to press a kiss against my temple. "I think I need to know sometime."
I closed my eyes and leaned into the contact, the first few signs that I was starting to relax. "Interesting."
He pushed his luck. "How come he did those things to you?"
My fingers gripped Foster's tightly. "I was widely considered a failure." I pulled back as if I wished to make eye contact but wound up staring at Foster's mattress instead.
"You aren't a failure, you're far from it." He kissed me lightly on the cheek, "I think you're perfect."
My expression trembled, threatened to break, I closed my eyes again.
"Gabriel," he sighed, letting go of his hands so he could pull me into a hug, wrapping himself around me as if it would protect me from all the hurt I had gone through in the past. "He's a fucking idiot, okay? Sometimes there isn't any other explanation."
I allowed myself to be held, my hands still resting in Foster's lap, not reciprocating the touch. "I do not understand," I admitted, face pressed against Foster's shoulder. "I am mentally and emotionally unstable. I cannot leave the building but I cannot stand remaining inside. I am nothing like you." It took me several minutes before I gathered the courage to ask my question. "Why would you remain when others have not?"
He pressed his nose to my hair, inhaling the scent of me and gathering his thoughts.
"Because I'm not as different from you as you seem to think," he murmured into my temple. "Maybe the reason I'm so drawn to you isn't that you're so different from me, but because we're also a lot alike."
"In what way are we anything alike?" I asked, my tone disbelieving.
"Do you love me?" Foster asked.
"You don't have to answer that," he assured me belatedly.
I pulled away from him and succeeded in meeting his eyes this time, my expression open, vulnerable. "Yes," I said, and while my voice wavered a little, my gaze never did.
Foster broke into a grin. "Well, there's one thing we have in common," he smiled, leaning in to kiss me.
I didn't share his joyful expression, my face guarded. "Love is not always enough to ensure a lasting connection between two people."
"You're right." Foster said. "But sometimes it's enough to keep two people together when everything else would break them. Besides, we're alike in other ways, too."
"How so?"
He cradled my face in his hands, keeping me from breaking eye contact when he spoke. "I saw you that night on the rooftop. I saw you. You've got the same love of the sky that I do, that same desire to visit each and every star just to see what's there. You were so different that night, Gabriel. It was like the real you came out from under all that panic and guilt and other stuff that takes over you. And you were...god, Gabriel, you were gorgeous."
"Come here," Foster whispered, tugging at me gently to move up on the bed, pushing me down into the unmade sheets and smiling down at me. "Don't go anywhere." He got up and took a moment to lift the blinds on all his bedroom windows, letting in the late afternoon sun, watching as it spilled over my prone form. "I'm going to tell you everything I see in you, everything I feel when I'm around you. But we're going to do it with the outside world coming in a little bit." He cracked his windows open, letting a cool breeze flow into the room. "Because you're a lot more at ease when you're out there."
"Yes," I agreed, my gaze fixed on the windows for a few moments, taking in the unobstructed view of the clouds, of the slowly dying sunshine. Then I looked at Foster, never breaking eye contact with him as he walked back towards the bed. I reached a hand across the mattress, beckoning him to join me.
"Not yet." He pulled his old t-shirt over his head and tossed it in a corner, unbuttoned his jeans and hobbled out of those as well. He left his underwear on for the time being and looked up at me.
My face was a combination of uncertainty and lust, the tips of my ears flushing red and my eyes darting from Foster's face, to his chest, to his groin, and then guiltily back up to his face again.
"You can look," Foster assured me, crawling up to sit on the bed next to me and taking the offered hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. "You can look all you want. But I'd like...I'd like to see you, too."
The uncertainty won over the lust in my expression then, my gaze darting nervously to Foster's face. "Foster..."
"Gabriel, I've seen you have a panic attack. I've seen you throw up. And I've seen you when you come. If I've seen all that and haven't taken off, what awful thing do you think is going to happen if I see you naked?" He chuckled. "And how ridiculous is it that I've seen you come and yet I have no idea what most of your body looks like?"
I considered that, my face still carrying traces of anxiety. I sat up and began unbuttoning my shirt with trembling fingers.
Foster kept his eyes glued to the newly bared inches of skin on my neck, below my collarbone, the fabric parting all the way down to my waistband before I shrugged it off.
"Oh," Foster breathed, he traced his fingers up the newly bared arm, across my collarbone, and onto my scarred chest. He pressed his hand there more firmly, trying to feel my heart beating under the skin, frowning when he could feel nothing past the searing heat of me.
I understood what he'd been looking for. I took Foster's hand in my own, kissing the palm and then looking self-conscious about the display of affection before I pressed it against the low thrumming beneath where he thought it would be.
"Okay," he murmured, moving closer to me until his lips almost brushed against mine as he spoke. "There's one of the best things I see in you: your capacity for love and emotion. It kills me that you always look so guilty after any display of affection, like you've screwed up and you're waiting for me to call you on it." He closed the gap between us, not so much kissing me as mouthing at my lower lip. "I know you want your controls back. And I want that to happen for you. But I hope no matter how far you go in reclaiming that, this part of you remains, even if only in private."
My eyes grew wider and wider as Foster let his mouth run away with him. No one had ever spoken to me this way and I had no idea how to handle it past moving closer for more contact, keeping my gaze glued on Foster. "It is not against my social mores."
"Glad to hear it." Foster pushed on me gently until I was on my back again, drinking in the sight of me before pressing a soft kiss to my throat, and he shivered at the low rumbling sound it produced. "There's another thing I can't get enough of: your voice. I didn't notice it for the longest time at first - you were always so damn quiet. But when you finally started speaking up...God, Gabriel, you could recite the dictionary and it would still be sexy."
I swallowed hard, squirming under all the praise. "Foster," I whispered hoarsely, fingers digging into his hipbones where I'd grabbed onto him like an anchor in a storm. "Foster, this is...It is too much."
"Too damn bad," Foster returned, kissing down my chest. "You've been shut up in that room with nothing but your own demons for company. Jayden (Foster's doctor friend) said you needed your boundaries pushed at times, so you're going to lay there and let me push for awhile. I've had just about enough of you thinking you're somehow less of a person." He emphasized his point by dragging his teeth over my skin.
I jerked in surprise, fisting my other hand in Foster's hair and hissing at him quietly. "Foster," I said again, with more of a warning in my voice than a plea.
"Too much?" Before I could answer, Foster had already kissed it soothingly, hoping that would get a better response.
"Yes. No, I..." I squirmed. "More," I finally choked out, then squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed of my request.
"Oh no," Foster muttered, stopping his exploration of my chest. He swung a leg over me, straddling me and pressing more kisses along my jaw, my cheekbone, then into the worried creases at the corners of my eyes. "Open up. Look at me."
I started trembling again, my hands digging bruises into Foster's hip and scalp. "I..." I shook my head, fighting an internal battle before opening my eyes, some of the anxiety in my expression making the slow slide into fear.
Foster was having none of that, kissing my forehead, the bridge of my nose, my upper lip. "You don't ever, EVER feel bad about asking for something. Not ever. I'm a fish out of water here, Gabriel. I have no idea what makes a you feel good and even less of an idea of how to make you feel good without freaking you out. So if there's something you want me to do, you tell me."
I worked my mouth a few times, the fear slowly melting from my eyes. My fingers relaxed at the nape of Foster's neck so I was cradling him rather than bruising him when he pulled me down for another kiss. It started out tentative, began to build in intensity when my lips opened under his and I licked at the seam of Foster's mouth. Just as Foster was opening to me, I broke the contact to look up at him. "So long as you will agree to those same terms," I murmured.
"Uh..." He was dazed, his erection pressing against the bulge in my trousers. "Yeah," he finally managed, his brain tripping over itself in an effort to catch up. "Although I'm not feeling all that picky right now. All I want is more of you."
"Yes," I agreed, not quite meeting his gaze as my hands drifted down Foster's back stilling there, I didn't dare move any further then that.
But Foster shuddered as if I had groped him obscenely. "Can I-" he began to say, his voice going rough in the middle. He cleared it, nuzzling against the soft skin under my ear when he tried again. "Can I take these off?" he asked, fingering the fastenings of my pants.
I shifted restlessly underneath him. Silence lapsed between us, I gathered strength for the battle, I took one of Foster's hands in mine and led it to my waistband. "You may."
He began pressing a trail of kisses down my neck and chest, avoiding my scars, until he was at eye-level with my groin. He licked at each new bit of skin he revealed as he unbuttoned the soft black trousers, nuzzling against my skin leading down, down...
Foster pulled my pants down my hips and off my legs, leaving me laid utterly bare underneath him. Foster wrapped one hand around my shaft, my hips jutting helplessly forward at the sensation. His other hand trailed under it, tracing the smooth skin along the base, then further down-
And almost being thrown off the bed from the force of me bucking, laughing breathlessly as he pinned me back down to the blankets. "Sensitive, I take it," he grinned, licking into the crease of my thigh.
"Foster," I pleaded, the barest hint of a whine coloring my voice. "Foster, I... I want..." I was unable to verbalize the rest, spreading my legs and reaching down to tug at Foster's shoulders and neck.
"Me too," Foster whispered, scraping his teeth over my ribs and along my side as he shifted back up to face me. "Fuck, Gabriel, me too." He was pulled into another drowning kiss, open mouthed and somewhat graceless but wet and perfect all the same. "Do you-" Foster began to say, distracted momentarily by an urgent need to suck on my ear. "Can I?" he finally managed to ask, hoping I would understand.
I shuddered underneath him. "Yes," I whispered, slipping my fingers into the waistband of Foster's underwear and peeling them off his body.
There was still a faint trace of anxiety in my eyes, but I shifted until I had one leg hooked over Foster's hip, spreading the other open in blatant invitation.
Foster pushed forward, intending to take his time to ensure I was comfortable with penetration.
I pulled him in, and in a rush of slick heat, Foster was buried deep in me, smothering a cry in my shoulder. As he collected the shreds of his self-control, he became aware of a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere.
"Are you purring?"
My eyes cracked open, somehow managing to look both lustful and indignant. "I am not."
"You are," Foster insisted, grinning down at me. "Like a goddamn cat. Do you always do that or is it j-nngh," he moaned, his question forgotten because I had tightened around his shaft. Foster thrust forward instinctively, dropping his forehead to rest against mine and trying to steady himself again. "That wasn't fair."
"Foster," I didn't quite whine at him, cupping his jaw, pressing our mouths together.
Foster swallowed down the rest of the purr, tongue delving into my mouth to chase the feel and flavor of it as he began to rock his hips in a deep, steady rhythm. He let himself go for long minutes, drowning in the rhythm of our bodies together, the desperate, suckling quality of our kisses, the way my body opened to his and embraced it, the rumbling emanating from my chest.
He was fast approaching his climax, pulling back from the kiss to make sure I was there, too. The moment our lips parted, he had his answer. "You're...not..." he gasped between thrusts.
I looked just as lost as Foster felt. "I..." I shook my head, looking up at Foster helplessly.
I was hard at least. Foster could feel the slick length of me pressed between our bodies. I was simply nowhere near as close as Foster was. "What do you need?" he breathed over my lips, slowing his thrusts to get an answer out of me.
I closed my eyes momentarily, it is such a battle for me to ask for what I want. But seconds later there was a hand grabbing for one of his. I laced our fingers together and squeezed gently, explaining myself through actions rather than words. Foster gave a hesitant squeeze back.
And watched in shock as I arched under him, only adding to the feline characteristics I'd displayed that night. "Holy shit," Foster whispered, belatedly remembering what I had told him about the importance of hands to me. He rocked his hips against mine, squeezing my hand at the same time, groaning at the look of ecstasy slowly taking over my face. "Fuck, yes," he muttered against my shoulder. "Can you come like this? Want you to come, Gabriel, wanna feel you fall apart, wanna see you put yourself back together just like this..." His mouth was running away with him as it always did.
"Foster," I gasped, and it seemed to be my mantra, one of the only words I could choke out as we moved against each other. My free hand flailed in the air for a moment, almost reaching for him before I consciously jerked it back into the pillows, gazing up at Foster with a plea for understanding in my eyes.
It took Foster a moment to get it, eyes lighting up when realization dawned. "Yes," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine again. "Do it. I want you..."
I squeezed his other hand in mine, my head fell back, as my back arched further, my legs squeezed around Foster's hips while I groaned and shuddered, and Foster could have sworn he was being scalded. Foster thrust into me and stilled there, his body shuddered and collapsed onto mine.
After awhile I realized he was sleeping...and I thought I was the only one who did that.
Foster let out a halfhearted grumble, hunkering back down in the blankets.
I was stretched out next to him, my ribcage expanding and contracting in time with my breathing, our legs tangled together under the sheets. Foster shifted closer until his chest was plastered against the warmth of my back, his hands wandering over the sinewy strength in my arms, the low vibration of a heartbeat under my ribs.
I felt boneless under Foster's wandering hands, relaxed and pliant. Foster's cock started twitching to attention against my lower back. There was a slow, deep intake of breath, and Foster realized that I wasn't actually asleep. I looked completely at ease, no lines of tension visible around my mouth, my eyes hooded and nearly closed. But I wasn't asleep - Foster could just tell. Something else was going on under the surface. Foster swept his fingers along my arm, over my shoulder, along the cords of my neck, around the point of my ear, until they were settled on top of my hand.
"You awake?" he whispered, pressing himself up closer against me, watching my face curiously.
There was a long moment of silence, my eyes cracked openly slowly, blinking at the clock before I turned my head to look at Foster. "I am now."
Foster was relieved that I didn't seem to be panicking the way I had the first time we'd spent the night together. He smiled down at me, kissing my forehead. "What were you doing just now? I know you weren't sleeping."
I raised an eyebrow, my body turning slowly until I was stretched out on my back. "How did you know?"
He shrugged, tracing both of my eyebrows, unable to keep himself from touching me. "I just knew. I could feel it in you."
"Hm." I said contently. "I was attempting to meditate."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Jayden said you needed to start doing that more often. I wouldn't have bothered you if-"
I pressed my fingers against Foster's mouth, silencing him. "I welcome the interruption," I said, soft brown eyes sweeping over Foster warmly.
"You look so relaxed," he murmured, kissing the fingers pressed against his mouth and then taking my hand in his. "I was worried I'd wake up to you having another panic attack."
I shook my head. "You being around has...helped with the instability of my emotions. I can feel you here," I gestured with our linked hands, then shifted back against Foster to emphasize the way our skin was pressed together. "I find I cannot be ashamed of my lack of control when you are so obviously pleased with the events of last night."
Foster was caught somewhere between a wolfish grin and faint humiliation. "Yeah, about that, I promise I don't usually pass out afterward."
I almost smiled at him, the lightest traces of smugness in my expression. "I understand people react to it in a variety of ways."
Foster laughed at how self-satisfied I looked under the layer of calm I was attempting to hide under, shaking his head and leaning down for a kiss. "Maybe I have to build up an immunity to it. I guess we'll have to run a bunch more experiments to see."
"Perhaps," I allowed, more interested in the kiss than the conversation if the way my whole body was turning toward him was anything to go by.
Foster settled down beside me, one hand still laced with mine, the other delving into my damp black hair, and pushed forward for another kiss, and another, and another. My free arm rested over his hip, palm pressed against his lower back, urging him forward until we were pressed
flesh-to-flesh against one another, the curve of Foster's steadily growing erection brushing against mine, our hips beginning to rock together.
"Mmm," Foster murmured against me, licking some of the staleness from the roof of my mouth until he started getting those metallic hints of flavor from me instead. "Are you... Do you...?" he tried to speak, pressing against me with a little more urgency, loving how our lazy, late-morning thrusting was leaving a trail of slickness between our bellies, the jut of my erection growing harder against him.
I lifted a leg over Foster's hip and drew him forward, opening myself to him in blatant invitation.
The rhythm that had been building between us stuttered at the display of trust I was giving him.
"Too close already."
I didn't say anything about that as I did a smug sense of superiority, raking blunt nails lightly down Foster's spine.
Foster bucked forward, his moan lost in my mouth as I thrust against him.
"Gabriel," Foster whined, in the midst of our groping, kissing, thrusting.
"Yes," was the throaty response, the pleasure melting down our spines, igniting something deep inside of us. "Please. I wish to feel you. Your freedom is mine," and then there was that strange word Foster didn't understand. But it was so full of meaning, so ripe with a sense of security, devotion, longing, that he found it didn't need a translation. The sense of it boiling through him was enough, and with another few thrusts against my slick, searing skin, he separated our mouths just enough to gasp as he came, coating our bellies with another layer of slickness on top of the sweat I had already smeared between us.
The slickness between us fast turning into a wet, slippery mess as Foster's orgasm triggered my own. The low rumble of a purr echoed deep in my chest as I groaned, my eyes blown wide and dark in the late morning sunshine streaming through the window.
"Oh," Foster breathed, his gaze fixed on my open, euphoric expression. "Oh my God." He let go of my hand in order to cradle my face in his fingers, pressing sweet, fleeting little kisses to my lips, the corners of my eyes, the faint red staining my cheeks. "You are so gorgeous like this."
I was coming down from a haze, my body gone slack and still but my eyes locked on Foster's. I was almost lost for an instant, then I saw something soothing in Foster's face, the anxiety melted away into a soft, openly adoring expression that squeezed around Foster's heart. "Foster," I breathed reverently, tilting my head forward to press a kiss against his temple.
Foster could only shiver at the sensation, shifting until we were pressed skin-to-skin again, heedless of the swiftly cooling mess solidifying between us. "We'll shower in a bit," Foster whispered, burrowing his head into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, not wanting to leave our little cocoon of bliss. "Just want you awhile longer."
I looped my arms around him and pulled him closer. "That is... agreeable."
Foster couldn't help a fond snort, kissing under my ear. "Glad to hear it."
Gabriel.
I heard a knock on the door, it was louder then usual.
I opened the door, Foster was surprised when it only opened a crack, I peered out at him the same way I had done before we became closer. "Foster." I was even more worn down than I had been a few days ago when he had stopped by to see me, eyes bloodshot, skin pale.
"Hey," he said softly. "Can I come in?"
I almost cringed, then belatedly tried to prevent myself from doing so. "Yes," I answered, not meeting his eyes as I stepped aside to let him through.
He waited until the door had been closed and locked behind me before he reached out and pressed a hand to my cheek, trying to get me to meet his eyes. "I've been neglecting you," he murmured, trying to project the sincerity of his apology. "And I'm sorry. It was the last week of the semester and you know how huge my courses are."
"Yes," I repeated. I leaned into the contact that I starved for it but still couldn't meet his eyes.
He gave me what I was so obviously screaming for, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pulling me in close, nuzzling his cheek against mine, silently willing me not to shut down on him, not to panic. "I learned something about you this afternoon," he breathed against one of my ears, keeping his voice low and soothing.
I was clinging to him like I never had before, not even in the depths of my worst episodes. I was soaking up the physical contact like a sponge, eyes closed as I molded myself into Foster's body.
"What?" I whispered.
"Your past." He shifted a bit, pressed our foreheads together and watched me closely. "How come you didn't tell me?"
I let loose a minuscule gasp, it sounded as if it had been ripped from my chest before I stopped it. I swallowed hard, the lines at my eyes deepening as I fought for control. "I did not...I am..." I tried again. "I did not th-think it would be necessary."
He wrapped both arms around my waist, "Why wouldn't you think it was necessary? Didn't you...?" He stopped himself. "...want me to know?" he finished.
"Yes," I whispered, the word sounded extremely painful.
"I'd like to know more about you," he said quietly, kissing my temple.
"What do y-you wanna know?" I finally cracked my eyes open, the vulnerability visible but I got it back under control.
"Whatever you want me to know." He replied, his words lingered in my mind. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to know.
"Very well." I was back to clipped, anxious responses, and I was also too exhausted to argue the matter.
I pulled away from him stiffly, I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together as I led him toward my bedroom. "How much do you already know?"
"I know that someone beat you up a lot." He said, not going into detail.
I shook my head minutely, sitting at the foot of my bed and gesturing for Foster to join me. "There are...are certain risks..." My speech was still awkward, stilted. "Are you aware of them?"
"Um...no not really." He didn't understand.
"I may get really worked up, and I..." I trailed off trying to gather my strength before saying the rest, "I-I don't want you to leave me."
He settled one hand on top of mine on my lap, bracing it there. He curled the other into my hair, cradling the back of my skull, trying to will me to relax. "Hey," he murmured softly. "It's okay. You can be as emotional as you need to be and it isn't going to send me running."
I was shuddering all over, swallowing hard as I tried to keep myself together. "The l-last time I..."
He leaned in and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to my lips. "I can handle whatever feelings you want to throw at me."
The look of total desperation in my eyes stabbed at him, I wanted to believe him but I couldn't bring myself to. I was still trembling faintly. "Denken, Gabriel, die Vergangenheit." I whispered to myself in German, squeezing my eyes closed.
There was a startling blankness to my thoughts, as if my mind were some sort of light that had just been switched off. Time stretched endlessly as I remained perfectly still. I was beginning to wonder what the big deal was when-
Bits and pieces of memory started to surface along the river of chaos in my mind.
"I was utterly alone with my emotions, unable to control them, unable to find an anchor I could hold onto in order to even try." I was speaking in a monotonous, almost robotic voice. "I was trapped within my own mind, my mind prisoner within my own body, my body prisoner within a cage of its own, familiar walls that never changed, that never allowed me to leave, my bed full of memories and pleasure and pain and broken and a kind of mental agony, it is so much more than I could possibly bear-"
"Gabriel. Gabriel, I'm here. Gabriel-" Foster said, but instead of drawing me out of my trance he caused an entirely different set of thoughts.
"Foster! Freedom in the stars, exhilaration under the night sky. Want, desire, affection, need- no! Rejection, fear, alone. Caged, bound to hell. Home, center, hello, welcome, bed. Bed, rejection, distance, dissolution, pain. Pain of the mind, pain of the body, pain of the deepest part of self where Eden is no more. Gone and yet not gone, a voluntary severance, and the mind bleeds, bleeds, bleeds into the nothingness on the other side. Alone and yet not alone, traces of it everywhere, in this room, in this bed, in the walls, in the air, and yet one cannot leave because out there is the cause, out there are the emotions that batter against the controls, out there are the reasons why in here is a cage and out there is a wasteland, no safety to be found anywhere-"
I knew that Foster's body was shuddering violently, I knew he was choking, sobbing. I tried to draw on those physicalities, but it still wasn't enough for me to come out of my trance.
Foster spoke of the memories of our night on the rooftop, of how totally at ease I had been, of the endless vista of stars that stretched out above us. He spoke of the softness in my eyes, the sensation of my hands and mouth over his skin. He tried to gather up all the held back desire, all the affection, all the heartbreaking love that he felt for me and pushed it at me.
Several things happened at once. I felt as if some sort of explosion had gone off in the base of my skull, and the agony of it distracted me from the sudden blankness of thought. I wrenched my hands away from Foster's hands. And the sudden lack of physical contact alerted Foster to the fact that I had just vomited all over the sheets.
It took several minutes before Foster could act, letting out a long, wet, shuddering sigh as he pulled himself back together. He tugged me up from my perch on the bed, leading me over to the wall and helping me sit on the floor there. Wiping the last of the wetness from his eyes, he stripped the bed as quickly and efficiently as he could, shoving them down the nearby laundry chute before the smell could spread around the room. He stood in front of the chute for several minutes, I'm assuming he was trying to piece himself back together, to comprehend all that he had just seen, heard, felt.
He made his way back to me on the floor, sitting next to me and pulling me so my head was in his lap. "We're leaving," he informed me quietly.
I shuddered, pressing my face against Foster's thigh, my fingers digging bruises into his legs where I was clinging to them.
"We're leaving," he repeated undeterred. "Both of us. You tell me when you're ready and we'll go. I want to tell you a few things, but I won't do it here."
"Why?" I rasped, the pain still evident in my voice.
"Because this isn't your safe haven. It's just the lesser of all evils as far as you're concerned. And I don't want to talk to you in a place where you're still miserable. So you tell me when you can manage to walk, and we'll go."
"To the roof?" I asked, and the feeble hope in my voice pierced him.
"Maybe some other time, when we can arrange it so no one will bother us when we get there." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to one of my ears. "We're going to my place. We're going to head back to my bedroom, to my bed, and I'm going to show you what I see, what I feel when I think of you. And you're going to hear it in a place where your demons aren't there to distract you." He paused, rubbing at his forehead. "And I'm gonna fill myself up with aspirin."
I was silent for a long time, I had shut down my mental processes as a defense mechanism. But after an age had passed, I whispered in the air.
"I am ready."
I was too exhausted to panic by the time Foster led me out of my apartment. I barely reacted at all as he pulled me from my room and back into Foster's room. My blank expression remained as Foster guided me to the bedroom, pushing me to sit at the foot of the bed while he dug around for his much needed aspirin.
"You have been speaking with the doctor," I observed, my voice low and monotone.
"Yeah. He's the one who clued me in about your past." He swallowed three pills. "He wants to meet you sometime, by the way. To growl at you about not taking proper care of yourself. Try not to get too offended about that when it happens - it's just what he does."
I said nothing, watching Foster blankly as he moved around his bedroom, stowing the pill bottle in a drawer before sitting next to me.
"Hey," he said softly, taking my clammy hands in his own. "Talk to me."
"What do you wish me to say?"
"How bad were things for you?"
I stared at our hands resting in Foster's lap. "I-I was....it was...he was...Foster, you cannot know."
Foster's face twisted into a sad kind of smile at that, leaning forward to press a kiss against my temple. "I think I need to know sometime."
I closed my eyes and leaned into the contact, the first few signs that I was starting to relax. "Interesting."
He pushed his luck. "How come he did those things to you?"
My fingers gripped Foster's tightly. "I was widely considered a failure." I pulled back as if I wished to make eye contact but wound up staring at Foster's mattress instead.
"You aren't a failure, you're far from it." He kissed me lightly on the cheek, "I think you're perfect."
My expression trembled, threatened to break, I closed my eyes again.
"Gabriel," he sighed, letting go of his hands so he could pull me into a hug, wrapping himself around me as if it would protect me from all the hurt I had gone through in the past. "He's a fucking idiot, okay? Sometimes there isn't any other explanation."
I allowed myself to be held, my hands still resting in Foster's lap, not reciprocating the touch. "I do not understand," I admitted, face pressed against Foster's shoulder. "I am mentally and emotionally unstable. I cannot leave the building but I cannot stand remaining inside. I am nothing like you." It took me several minutes before I gathered the courage to ask my question. "Why would you remain when others have not?"
He pressed his nose to my hair, inhaling the scent of me and gathering his thoughts.
"Because I'm not as different from you as you seem to think," he murmured into my temple. "Maybe the reason I'm so drawn to you isn't that you're so different from me, but because we're also a lot alike."
"In what way are we anything alike?" I asked, my tone disbelieving.
"Do you love me?" Foster asked.
"You don't have to answer that," he assured me belatedly.
I pulled away from him and succeeded in meeting his eyes this time, my expression open, vulnerable. "Yes," I said, and while my voice wavered a little, my gaze never did.
Foster broke into a grin. "Well, there's one thing we have in common," he smiled, leaning in to kiss me.
I didn't share his joyful expression, my face guarded. "Love is not always enough to ensure a lasting connection between two people."
"You're right." Foster said. "But sometimes it's enough to keep two people together when everything else would break them. Besides, we're alike in other ways, too."
"How so?"
He cradled my face in his hands, keeping me from breaking eye contact when he spoke. "I saw you that night on the rooftop. I saw you. You've got the same love of the sky that I do, that same desire to visit each and every star just to see what's there. You were so different that night, Gabriel. It was like the real you came out from under all that panic and guilt and other stuff that takes over you. And you were...god, Gabriel, you were gorgeous."
"Come here," Foster whispered, tugging at me gently to move up on the bed, pushing me down into the unmade sheets and smiling down at me. "Don't go anywhere." He got up and took a moment to lift the blinds on all his bedroom windows, letting in the late afternoon sun, watching as it spilled over my prone form. "I'm going to tell you everything I see in you, everything I feel when I'm around you. But we're going to do it with the outside world coming in a little bit." He cracked his windows open, letting a cool breeze flow into the room. "Because you're a lot more at ease when you're out there."
"Yes," I agreed, my gaze fixed on the windows for a few moments, taking in the unobstructed view of the clouds, of the slowly dying sunshine. Then I looked at Foster, never breaking eye contact with him as he walked back towards the bed. I reached a hand across the mattress, beckoning him to join me.
"Not yet." He pulled his old t-shirt over his head and tossed it in a corner, unbuttoned his jeans and hobbled out of those as well. He left his underwear on for the time being and looked up at me.
My face was a combination of uncertainty and lust, the tips of my ears flushing red and my eyes darting from Foster's face, to his chest, to his groin, and then guiltily back up to his face again.
"You can look," Foster assured me, crawling up to sit on the bed next to me and taking the offered hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. "You can look all you want. But I'd like...I'd like to see you, too."
The uncertainty won over the lust in my expression then, my gaze darting nervously to Foster's face. "Foster..."
"Gabriel, I've seen you have a panic attack. I've seen you throw up. And I've seen you when you come. If I've seen all that and haven't taken off, what awful thing do you think is going to happen if I see you naked?" He chuckled. "And how ridiculous is it that I've seen you come and yet I have no idea what most of your body looks like?"
I considered that, my face still carrying traces of anxiety. I sat up and began unbuttoning my shirt with trembling fingers.
Foster kept his eyes glued to the newly bared inches of skin on my neck, below my collarbone, the fabric parting all the way down to my waistband before I shrugged it off.
"Oh," Foster breathed, he traced his fingers up the newly bared arm, across my collarbone, and onto my scarred chest. He pressed his hand there more firmly, trying to feel my heart beating under the skin, frowning when he could feel nothing past the searing heat of me.
I understood what he'd been looking for. I took Foster's hand in my own, kissing the palm and then looking self-conscious about the display of affection before I pressed it against the low thrumming beneath where he thought it would be.
"Okay," he murmured, moving closer to me until his lips almost brushed against mine as he spoke. "There's one of the best things I see in you: your capacity for love and emotion. It kills me that you always look so guilty after any display of affection, like you've screwed up and you're waiting for me to call you on it." He closed the gap between us, not so much kissing me as mouthing at my lower lip. "I know you want your controls back. And I want that to happen for you. But I hope no matter how far you go in reclaiming that, this part of you remains, even if only in private."
My eyes grew wider and wider as Foster let his mouth run away with him. No one had ever spoken to me this way and I had no idea how to handle it past moving closer for more contact, keeping my gaze glued on Foster. "It is not against my social mores."
"Glad to hear it." Foster pushed on me gently until I was on my back again, drinking in the sight of me before pressing a soft kiss to my throat, and he shivered at the low rumbling sound it produced. "There's another thing I can't get enough of: your voice. I didn't notice it for the longest time at first - you were always so damn quiet. But when you finally started speaking up...God, Gabriel, you could recite the dictionary and it would still be sexy."
I swallowed hard, squirming under all the praise. "Foster," I whispered hoarsely, fingers digging into his hipbones where I'd grabbed onto him like an anchor in a storm. "Foster, this is...It is too much."
"Too damn bad," Foster returned, kissing down my chest. "You've been shut up in that room with nothing but your own demons for company. Jayden (Foster's doctor friend) said you needed your boundaries pushed at times, so you're going to lay there and let me push for awhile. I've had just about enough of you thinking you're somehow less of a person." He emphasized his point by dragging his teeth over my skin.
I jerked in surprise, fisting my other hand in Foster's hair and hissing at him quietly. "Foster," I said again, with more of a warning in my voice than a plea.
"Too much?" Before I could answer, Foster had already kissed it soothingly, hoping that would get a better response.
"Yes. No, I..." I squirmed. "More," I finally choked out, then squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed of my request.
"Oh no," Foster muttered, stopping his exploration of my chest. He swung a leg over me, straddling me and pressing more kisses along my jaw, my cheekbone, then into the worried creases at the corners of my eyes. "Open up. Look at me."
I started trembling again, my hands digging bruises into Foster's hip and scalp. "I..." I shook my head, fighting an internal battle before opening my eyes, some of the anxiety in my expression making the slow slide into fear.
Foster was having none of that, kissing my forehead, the bridge of my nose, my upper lip. "You don't ever, EVER feel bad about asking for something. Not ever. I'm a fish out of water here, Gabriel. I have no idea what makes a you feel good and even less of an idea of how to make you feel good without freaking you out. So if there's something you want me to do, you tell me."
I worked my mouth a few times, the fear slowly melting from my eyes. My fingers relaxed at the nape of Foster's neck so I was cradling him rather than bruising him when he pulled me down for another kiss. It started out tentative, began to build in intensity when my lips opened under his and I licked at the seam of Foster's mouth. Just as Foster was opening to me, I broke the contact to look up at him. "So long as you will agree to those same terms," I murmured.
"Uh..." He was dazed, his erection pressing against the bulge in my trousers. "Yeah," he finally managed, his brain tripping over itself in an effort to catch up. "Although I'm not feeling all that picky right now. All I want is more of you."
"Yes," I agreed, not quite meeting his gaze as my hands drifted down Foster's back stilling there, I didn't dare move any further then that.
But Foster shuddered as if I had groped him obscenely. "Can I-" he began to say, his voice going rough in the middle. He cleared it, nuzzling against the soft skin under my ear when he tried again. "Can I take these off?" he asked, fingering the fastenings of my pants.
I shifted restlessly underneath him. Silence lapsed between us, I gathered strength for the battle, I took one of Foster's hands in mine and led it to my waistband. "You may."
He began pressing a trail of kisses down my neck and chest, avoiding my scars, until he was at eye-level with my groin. He licked at each new bit of skin he revealed as he unbuttoned the soft black trousers, nuzzling against my skin leading down, down...
Foster pulled my pants down my hips and off my legs, leaving me laid utterly bare underneath him. Foster wrapped one hand around my shaft, my hips jutting helplessly forward at the sensation. His other hand trailed under it, tracing the smooth skin along the base, then further down-
And almost being thrown off the bed from the force of me bucking, laughing breathlessly as he pinned me back down to the blankets. "Sensitive, I take it," he grinned, licking into the crease of my thigh.
"Foster," I pleaded, the barest hint of a whine coloring my voice. "Foster, I... I want..." I was unable to verbalize the rest, spreading my legs and reaching down to tug at Foster's shoulders and neck.
"Me too," Foster whispered, scraping his teeth over my ribs and along my side as he shifted back up to face me. "Fuck, Gabriel, me too." He was pulled into another drowning kiss, open mouthed and somewhat graceless but wet and perfect all the same. "Do you-" Foster began to say, distracted momentarily by an urgent need to suck on my ear. "Can I?" he finally managed to ask, hoping I would understand.
I shuddered underneath him. "Yes," I whispered, slipping my fingers into the waistband of Foster's underwear and peeling them off his body.
There was still a faint trace of anxiety in my eyes, but I shifted until I had one leg hooked over Foster's hip, spreading the other open in blatant invitation.
Foster pushed forward, intending to take his time to ensure I was comfortable with penetration.
I pulled him in, and in a rush of slick heat, Foster was buried deep in me, smothering a cry in my shoulder. As he collected the shreds of his self-control, he became aware of a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere.
"Are you purring?"
My eyes cracked open, somehow managing to look both lustful and indignant. "I am not."
"You are," Foster insisted, grinning down at me. "Like a goddamn cat. Do you always do that or is it j-nngh," he moaned, his question forgotten because I had tightened around his shaft. Foster thrust forward instinctively, dropping his forehead to rest against mine and trying to steady himself again. "That wasn't fair."
"Foster," I didn't quite whine at him, cupping his jaw, pressing our mouths together.
Foster swallowed down the rest of the purr, tongue delving into my mouth to chase the feel and flavor of it as he began to rock his hips in a deep, steady rhythm. He let himself go for long minutes, drowning in the rhythm of our bodies together, the desperate, suckling quality of our kisses, the way my body opened to his and embraced it, the rumbling emanating from my chest.
He was fast approaching his climax, pulling back from the kiss to make sure I was there, too. The moment our lips parted, he had his answer. "You're...not..." he gasped between thrusts.
I looked just as lost as Foster felt. "I..." I shook my head, looking up at Foster helplessly.
I was hard at least. Foster could feel the slick length of me pressed between our bodies. I was simply nowhere near as close as Foster was. "What do you need?" he breathed over my lips, slowing his thrusts to get an answer out of me.
I closed my eyes momentarily, it is such a battle for me to ask for what I want. But seconds later there was a hand grabbing for one of his. I laced our fingers together and squeezed gently, explaining myself through actions rather than words. Foster gave a hesitant squeeze back.
And watched in shock as I arched under him, only adding to the feline characteristics I'd displayed that night. "Holy shit," Foster whispered, belatedly remembering what I had told him about the importance of hands to me. He rocked his hips against mine, squeezing my hand at the same time, groaning at the look of ecstasy slowly taking over my face. "Fuck, yes," he muttered against my shoulder. "Can you come like this? Want you to come, Gabriel, wanna feel you fall apart, wanna see you put yourself back together just like this..." His mouth was running away with him as it always did.
"Foster," I gasped, and it seemed to be my mantra, one of the only words I could choke out as we moved against each other. My free hand flailed in the air for a moment, almost reaching for him before I consciously jerked it back into the pillows, gazing up at Foster with a plea for understanding in my eyes.
It took Foster a moment to get it, eyes lighting up when realization dawned. "Yes," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine again. "Do it. I want you..."
I squeezed his other hand in mine, my head fell back, as my back arched further, my legs squeezed around Foster's hips while I groaned and shuddered, and Foster could have sworn he was being scalded. Foster thrust into me and stilled there, his body shuddered and collapsed onto mine.
After awhile I realized he was sleeping...and I thought I was the only one who did that.
Foster let out a halfhearted grumble, hunkering back down in the blankets.
I was stretched out next to him, my ribcage expanding and contracting in time with my breathing, our legs tangled together under the sheets. Foster shifted closer until his chest was plastered against the warmth of my back, his hands wandering over the sinewy strength in my arms, the low vibration of a heartbeat under my ribs.
I felt boneless under Foster's wandering hands, relaxed and pliant. Foster's cock started twitching to attention against my lower back. There was a slow, deep intake of breath, and Foster realized that I wasn't actually asleep. I looked completely at ease, no lines of tension visible around my mouth, my eyes hooded and nearly closed. But I wasn't asleep - Foster could just tell. Something else was going on under the surface. Foster swept his fingers along my arm, over my shoulder, along the cords of my neck, around the point of my ear, until they were settled on top of my hand.
"You awake?" he whispered, pressing himself up closer against me, watching my face curiously.
There was a long moment of silence, my eyes cracked openly slowly, blinking at the clock before I turned my head to look at Foster. "I am now."
Foster was relieved that I didn't seem to be panicking the way I had the first time we'd spent the night together. He smiled down at me, kissing my forehead. "What were you doing just now? I know you weren't sleeping."
I raised an eyebrow, my body turning slowly until I was stretched out on my back. "How did you know?"
He shrugged, tracing both of my eyebrows, unable to keep himself from touching me. "I just knew. I could feel it in you."
"Hm." I said contently. "I was attempting to meditate."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Jayden said you needed to start doing that more often. I wouldn't have bothered you if-"
I pressed my fingers against Foster's mouth, silencing him. "I welcome the interruption," I said, soft brown eyes sweeping over Foster warmly.
"You look so relaxed," he murmured, kissing the fingers pressed against his mouth and then taking my hand in his. "I was worried I'd wake up to you having another panic attack."
I shook my head. "You being around has...helped with the instability of my emotions. I can feel you here," I gestured with our linked hands, then shifted back against Foster to emphasize the way our skin was pressed together. "I find I cannot be ashamed of my lack of control when you are so obviously pleased with the events of last night."
Foster was caught somewhere between a wolfish grin and faint humiliation. "Yeah, about that, I promise I don't usually pass out afterward."
I almost smiled at him, the lightest traces of smugness in my expression. "I understand people react to it in a variety of ways."
Foster laughed at how self-satisfied I looked under the layer of calm I was attempting to hide under, shaking his head and leaning down for a kiss. "Maybe I have to build up an immunity to it. I guess we'll have to run a bunch more experiments to see."
"Perhaps," I allowed, more interested in the kiss than the conversation if the way my whole body was turning toward him was anything to go by.
Foster settled down beside me, one hand still laced with mine, the other delving into my damp black hair, and pushed forward for another kiss, and another, and another. My free arm rested over his hip, palm pressed against his lower back, urging him forward until we were pressed
flesh-to-flesh against one another, the curve of Foster's steadily growing erection brushing against mine, our hips beginning to rock together.
"Mmm," Foster murmured against me, licking some of the staleness from the roof of my mouth until he started getting those metallic hints of flavor from me instead. "Are you... Do you...?" he tried to speak, pressing against me with a little more urgency, loving how our lazy, late-morning thrusting was leaving a trail of slickness between our bellies, the jut of my erection growing harder against him.
I lifted a leg over Foster's hip and drew him forward, opening myself to him in blatant invitation.
The rhythm that had been building between us stuttered at the display of trust I was giving him.
"Too close already."
I didn't say anything about that as I did a smug sense of superiority, raking blunt nails lightly down Foster's spine.
Foster bucked forward, his moan lost in my mouth as I thrust against him.
"Gabriel," Foster whined, in the midst of our groping, kissing, thrusting.
"Yes," was the throaty response, the pleasure melting down our spines, igniting something deep inside of us. "Please. I wish to feel you. Your freedom is mine," and then there was that strange word Foster didn't understand. But it was so full of meaning, so ripe with a sense of security, devotion, longing, that he found it didn't need a translation. The sense of it boiling through him was enough, and with another few thrusts against my slick, searing skin, he separated our mouths just enough to gasp as he came, coating our bellies with another layer of slickness on top of the sweat I had already smeared between us.
The slickness between us fast turning into a wet, slippery mess as Foster's orgasm triggered my own. The low rumble of a purr echoed deep in my chest as I groaned, my eyes blown wide and dark in the late morning sunshine streaming through the window.
"Oh," Foster breathed, his gaze fixed on my open, euphoric expression. "Oh my God." He let go of my hand in order to cradle my face in his fingers, pressing sweet, fleeting little kisses to my lips, the corners of my eyes, the faint red staining my cheeks. "You are so gorgeous like this."
I was coming down from a haze, my body gone slack and still but my eyes locked on Foster's. I was almost lost for an instant, then I saw something soothing in Foster's face, the anxiety melted away into a soft, openly adoring expression that squeezed around Foster's heart. "Foster," I breathed reverently, tilting my head forward to press a kiss against his temple.
Foster could only shiver at the sensation, shifting until we were pressed skin-to-skin again, heedless of the swiftly cooling mess solidifying between us. "We'll shower in a bit," Foster whispered, burrowing his head into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, not wanting to leave our little cocoon of bliss. "Just want you awhile longer."
I looped my arms around him and pulled him closer. "That is... agreeable."
Foster couldn't help a fond snort, kissing under my ear. "Glad to hear it."
Gabriel.
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