found this in the dumpster, after a long time coming up with nothing. no idea who wrote it or what it’s about but it sure is fun huh?
He gets there first, which is fine by him — a quick shower to wash off the day, a chance to brush his teeth and sit in silence for a few minutes, keyed up though he is. Emerging from the steam, he doesn’t want to put his all-day, used boxer briefs back on, but it seems presumptuous to just hang out, so to speak; he grabs a plush hotel robe from the hanger, ties it loosely, leans over the mirror to pluck a rogue old-man silver eyebrow hair.
He doesn’t hear her enter — loud exhaust fan — and almost shrieks when she appears at his elbow, a platinum-haired sprite with an impish glint in her eyes and an open hand slapping down on his terry-covered ass.
“Hey sexy!” she purrs into his ear, pulling him down with a possessive grip on the back of his neck. So that’s how it’s gonna be tonight — she’s always more eager after time apart, and especially time with her family; everything she bottles up while being Good Mom and Respectable Partner comes out of her at high pressure when he’s there to uncork it.
He bends to her, willingly, eagerly, till his back barks a protest; he scoops her up and sets her on the marble countertop, which turns out to be the perfect height.
He palms her breast through her thin shirt — “Naughty girl, out after curfew with no bra!” he mumbles, licking and kissing his way down her neck.
She laughs, working the robe’s sash undone so she can get at his chest. “Only gets in the way —” she shoves the thing to the floor, leaving him bare-assed and already ridiculously hard — “of what I want.”
Christ, he loves it when she takes charge.
Étiquette : I LOVE YOU GIRL!
I really loved your poem from 1997! Can you write a fic about that time, too?
you really want to feel guilty about the whole thing. you feel sorry for his wife because she doesn’t deserve it. she’s really nice, you think and you wanna punch yourself for doing that to her. but then again, you see him. he’s kissing your body, he’s naked in your bed, he’s moaning your name. he’s here, all yours and suddenly you can’t care less. suddenly you don’t think of his wife, you don’t think of the consequences, you don’t think of how messed up it all is. you can only think oh my god, and oh fuck david, harder…
after all, you’re laying in your bed and you are running your fingers through his chest. you draw patterns, you write letters between his nipples and you can feel his heartbeat and it makes you shiver. his heartbeat. his body. he’s here, you remind yourself.
“gillian…” he whispers and you’re so scared. you’re scared that he’s gonna say it’s a mistake, he regrets it, he’s gotta go and he’s gotta forget about you. you’re so not ready for him to break your heart. “gillian, i missed you.”
wait, what? you frown and can’t believe what he’s just said. he missed you? he sees you everyday and he missed you? you kiss his chest and that kiss wants to say that you missed him to and you don’t want him to leave, ever. you wonder whether he understood it from that kiss.
you look at him and he smiles. he leans in and kisses you tenderly and you melt down. because he’s here, naked in your bed, right after sex. he’s holding you in his arms and he’s humming your favorite song. and he tells you he missed you. and he says your full name. and he intertwined your fingers together during sex and you know he only does that when he cares. and he’s looking into your eyes.
and you realize you couldn’t love him more.
“maybe we should…” he stops and looks at you. you stare at his lips and think of all the possibilities. we should run away and never look back? we should get married and never explain ourselves? we should never leave this bed? “maybe we should talk?”
fuck, you think. you don’t really wanna talk. you wanna make love to him for as long as you’ve got because you don’t know when she comes back and he will have to go. you don’t wanna talk because you know it will hurt you both.
but you nod. and he starts talking.
damn, damn, damn.
“i loved you” he starts and you can already feel the tears coming. “you were the love of my life, actually. and i know that even the loves of the life don’t last forever. you can fall in love after that. i met tea and i’m really happy. i love her. not the way i loved you because it’s impossible. she and i… we’re good together, we want to have another dog because we’re responsible for each other now, you know? maybe having responsibilities together will make me forget about you. i really wish i could, gillian. i wish i could forget you, stop seeing you in my dreams, thinking of you every damn minute of my life. i don’t want to think of our memories. i want to listen to fucking marvin gaye and don’t think of you. i wanna fuck my wife to ‘let’s get it on’ and not see your face. i don’t want to hear your voice. i don’t want you to yell at me when i make fun when we run the lines together. i don’t want to see you reading a book or smoking a cigarette but i can see it all with my imagination and it’s killing me. mentally, i’m dead already because wherever i go, there’s you and you destroy everything for me. the whole city is filled with you because i can see and hear you everywhere. i can even smell your fucking shampoo. i tried to forget you. damn, i have a wife. i had a chance to forget you but i failed.”
i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, you repeat in your head and want to escape, disappear. he’s crying now, too and you don’t know what to do. all of it is your fault and you just don’t want to see him suffer anymore.
“tea is so good to me” he carries on and kills you even more. “she’s trying. every single day she asks if everything’s okay, if i’m okay and i keep lying to her because nothing’s fine because you’re everywhere. in every corner of my mind. i’m a fucking asshole for cheating on her but i can’t not do that because although i know it’s wrong, only when i do that, i feel happy. can you believe it? when i cheat on my wife and fuck you, i feel happy. it gives me pleasure. and when i come home, regrets come to me and i hate myself so much… and i wanna hate you and never come back but you’ve got that something that keeps me coming back to you. i don’t know if it’s your eyes, your body, the way you say my name or the feeling that i may fix you but i keep coming back and i really want to regret it but i can’t because it makes me happy. after all of this, you make me happy. i can’t not cheat on her, i can’t not come back. and it kills me. and i’m losing my mind. i’m so tired of it all. i can’t do it anymore, gillian. i don’t know what to do anymore…”
and you get it, you really do. you can see the pure pain in his eyes and you know that after all, he doesn’t deserve it either. you want to make the pain go away, you want to take it all from him but you’re just not sure you can take it all.
“i love you so fucking much” he adds at the end and cries in your arms and you just hold him until the morning and he has to leave your trailer without anyone noticing.
he doesn’t say anything in the morning. he just smiles at you and gets dressed. he kisses your forehead and tells you to meet him on set and you just nod.
you wonder if it was your last time together. if now you’re gonna kill each other on set or maybe if one of you will have to leave. you’re scared of every scenario but you know it will be good for the both of you.
the three of you, really.
you take a shower and cry. you get dressed and go on set and when you see him, you wave. he only nods and then you see his wife. he kisses her but looks at you. and you can’t hold it anymore.
you cry again and wonder if the pain will ever disappear.
and it doesn’t for years.
fuck, fuck, fuck.
Just Holding Hands 