Maybe, Never, Forever

Maybe, Never, Forever

Once more she heard those horrid words spill from his lips. He was berating himself again, talking about how he was ugly and how no one would ever want him. She automatically looked up from the book she had been perusing. Sometimes she just wanted to smack him as hard as she could. Perhaps she would knock some sense into his head.

Other times --

Other times she just wanted to talk right over and kiss him firmly on the mouth. How she longed to shove his body down and climb atop his stunned and frozen form. She could feel herself already begin to tremble with just a thought.

A gentle smirk appeared on her face. As usual, no one noticed, especially not him. They'd had the talk; they had already determined the continuation of their "just friends" status.

She recognized that the chance of her desire playing out was slim. It was a harsh realization, but a true one. Even, by small miracle, they shared a night of physical passion, it would become nothing. That was the hardest thought of all. Out of everything that she had wanted in her life, the two things she wanted most would probably never come to fruition: his sons. She was aware of the seriousness of her want, how a twenty-year-old should not hope for such things. Yet the thought of taking his seed into her and creating life with him sent her mind into a tailspin hurricane of emotion.

Nobody -- not him, not even her best friends -- knew how deeply her feelings for him dwelt. They coiled in her core, a writhing nest of disappointment crying out for his touch, screaming a silent scream in vain. he could not hear it, did not want to hear it.

"Hmmm." She sighed, raking her hand through her auburn hair.

She let her eyes travel over his form ever so subtlety. There were some who had found him unattractive, had made him feel so low about himself. No, he wasn't perfect, nor was he a Brat Pitt. In a way, that made him even more desirable than any movie star, any Joe Blow tall, dark, and handsome. he was so god-damned beautiful. She adored the way his bangs swept down into eyes that varied from compassion to darkly intense. She loved the way he'd toss it back with just the mere shake of the head and comb of the fingers.

Mostly she loved his eloquence. He was the most intelligent male she had ever met in her life. He was refined and knowledgeable. As odd as it sounded, his way of easily making her feel like an uncivilized barbarian in comparison to him caused shivers down her spine. He was an angel, a demon. He was a king, and a savior.

She noticed how the side of his shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a small patch of bare skin. She felt dirty, and invasive, but could not help but want the others to vanish just so she would have the courage to go to him.

She would slip her hands under his shirt, gently yanking it up and off. She would straddle him, placing a finger over his protesting lips. A shake of her head before lowering her mouth to his neck for that first sweet taste of skin. She'd learn every inch by tender exploration; hands, mouth, eyes. She would slide her hand up his thigh to gently search for that one hard bulge of flesh so pathetically hidden by thin fabric. Not a challenge at all to defeat.

"Make love to me." She's whisper, praying with every word he'd oblige.

And when he said yes, the trail of clothing from one room to the next would be a testament to her eagerness to feel his presence. She would await his coming atop sheets of ebony and crimson. When he arrived, just seconds after herself, he'd find the need to pry open legs clamped shut from fear and the shock that this was really happening.

There would be a tender coaxing and a command, dominant, yet not harsh. "Let me in."

His voice would be the key to unlock all her secrets. No longer would she deny him entrance. The screaming on the inside would vanish in the haze his invasion would cause. Breath would catch. She could feel herself subconsciously clench. A cry, his name, as he drove deeper, harder. Nails bite into skin as she would hold on to the last shred of rationality she had left.

At least until the fire would begin to build. It was hot and cold and something entirely indescribable. The explosion would be quick and instantaneous. It would feel like a million years of ecstasy releasing all at once, but it would last too short a time. Through the recovery fog she'd vaguely register his attempt to stifle a groan of pleasure as he drove one last time into the confines of her womanhood. That small sound heralded the claim he lay on her body. He was truly a part of her now, and deep inside a magick of enigma and fate began to weave a spell of possession.

She would always belong to him, even if he never belonged to her.

But maybe, just maybe...