Antiqua

We hated each other with an intensity greater than most of the love I've ever experienced. I think this is why we spent so much time together, seemed to need each other so much. That burning emotion deep in my guts is something I've never experienced with another lover, until recently.

The night we fucked, I was hardly expecting it. We had gone to a show on pearl st., with leslie and mark. The music, for some reason, turned me on. The singer was a punk-ish woman, in her mid-20s maybe (a little old for me at the time), and I could hardly look at her without fantasizing of making her mine. Of putting her on her knees, fucking her until she screamed and clawed the bed under her hands and I exploded into oblivion inside her.

During the course of the show, I became completely obsessed. I had almost forgotten that I was there with anyone other than the girl on stage, looking constantly like she was ready for the microphone to come all over her pretty face. When it was time to go, and I remembered that you were there somewhere, it made me angry. I had gotten all lost in myself, in my fantasies of this woman, and now I had to put up my guard again, get ready for your usual conversational barbs and antagonism that I knew were sure to come. They did.

Ditching mark and leslie (quite literally evading them in the crowd), we trekked back to my apartment through the snow. I set a faster pace than I knew you could manage, enjoying watching you struggle to keep up. I liked that it was snowing--i felt as though I were journeying through hostile climes, bound somewhere with a warm hearth and bed for the night, and you my wench, who I knew was mine, I knew wanted me even though I had denied her sex so far.

When we got to my building, I opened the door for you (feeling generous, apparently). You passed in front of me and swung the door shut in behind you, so that I walked into it, stumbled.

"fuck! Bitch."

You smiled at me over your shoulder. I unlocked the door again, and caught up with you at the elevator.

"you'll pay for that," I threatened, as the door slid shut.

"you think?" you snarled, flipping your finger at me in that half-ass, adjacent-fingers-halfway-extended bullshit way I've seen coloradans and west-coasters do. The elevator door slid shut as you punched "13" with your other hand. In answer, I grabbed you by the arm and threw you against the back wall of the elevator, generating a satisfying "thump." I grabbed your hair with my left hand, twisting your neck back. The kiss surprised me in its violence. I snaked my tongue as deep into your throat as I could get it, feeling you able to do nothing but get out of my way. I left both our lips bleeding slightly. You smirked sardonically as you glanced at the drop of blood on your finger, wiped off the inside of your upper lip.

"frustrated?"

"fuck you," came my retort.

"yeah? I have been waiting."

"then don't wait anymore. What are you waiting for?"

You just nodded ambiguously. I hated that.

We arrived on the 13th floor, and got out. My door was just across the hall from the elevator. You walked in front of me across the foyer, and waited expectantly for me to open the door. I unlocked it and tried, ineptly, to push by you. You slid by me, anticipating my move. You did always seem to. Blessedly, my roommate and his girlfriend (my best friend at the time) weren't in the apartment. Best friend or not, I couldn't stand to be around her. I started in the general direction of a glass of water, and you quickly made a coughing noise, and interrupted.

"i thought I was getting fucked."

"you're not naked yet, I can't fuck you. Figured I'd get a drink in the meantime."

"prick."

"you have to say, 'please.'"

"fuck you." frustration. God, I loved getting you riled.

"you get naked. I'm getting a drink."

You made an exasperated noise and whirled and headed for my bedroom. I got a glass from the cabinet and started to pour water. Thinking again, I got two wine glasses from over the refrigerator, and grabbed the bottle of merlot that had been sitting on the counter for a few months now. I opened it and filled the glasses, and turned and walked down the hall to my room.

I mostly succeeded in concealing my surprise in finding you naked on my bed, languidly masturbating. You barely looked up as I came in. Your cunt, red-brown hair trimmed close, was swollen and red from your masturbation, and your nipples were puckered and erect. Your slight frame and pale, chalk-white skin made you look like a doll to me, most times, though I knew you could fight. I still can't forget the shock of a surprise bloody lip from a 95-pound sparring partner. This was the first time I had seen you completely naked. Nearly no hips, though I could tell that from dancing with you. Trying to play off the surprise, I handed one of the glasses to you and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"refreshment? You must be tired."

Ignoring the bait, you took the wine and sat up against the headboard, splaying your legs lewdly. I took my shoes, socks and shirt off, then turned and sat lotus at the foot of the bed, looking you up and down as we both drank the wine. Catching me staring, you dipped two fingers into your wine and, leaning back, used them to spread the lips of your cunt wide, exposing your clit.

"want some?"

The look in your eye caught me. The anticipation. The fear. The vulnerability. I hid these same emotions from you, behind the aggression, the sarcasm. Laying back against the head of my bed, spreading your sex wide and offering yourself to me, I couldn't turn you down. It was too heartbreakingly beautiful.

Slowly, watching you watch me, I kneeled up. I slowly reached out, and placed my hands on the inside of each of your knees. You were all eyes, locked on me, wondering what was coming. I kept moving forward, and in one smooth motion, brought my face to your pussy. I had been able to smell you from three feet away, and as I brough my mouth down on your lips, the scent of you filled my head. Sharp, sweet like something both organic and metallic, it was at that moment the most sensually satisfying thing I had ever known.

You sighed out loud, from deep inside you, and brought your hands around to the back of my head, gripping my short hair and grinding your cunt into my face. I sucked your inner lips into my mouth, tugging on your clit, and nipped at them with my teeth. You squealed, and brought your legs together around my head, desperately pulling me against you harder. I quickly grabbed your wrists, and pulled your arms around your knees and down to your sides, pinning you and pulling you farther down on the bed. I began to flick my tongue up and down across your clit quickly. This was something you had mentioned liking to me in one of our conversations about sex. You were serious.

I was surprised to learn how quickly I began to take advantage of all you had told me about your sexuality. I knew that you wanted your arms pinned down. You struggled and pulled against my grip, but I had no trouble controlling you. Our strength and size were so far apart, there was no question of control. I could anticipate, too, the deep, throaty groan that rewarded me for sinking my thumb into your ass as I ate you out. That I could hold almost your entire ass in the palms of my hands, not even having to spread my fingers far, suddenly struck me as the sexiest thing I could imagine. You came, and I looked up at you, one of your hands pulling on your nipple, the other entwined in my hair, your eyes squeezed shut as you screamed.

As your orgasm tapered off, your face lit up, eyes wide.

"fuck me. I don't want to wait anymore."