i’m going to repost my newest fic on a second account @honeyzen and see if it does any better... if it does, i’ll be moving there perminantly and will post new fics on there. however, i will leave my older works up here. writing (especially smut) is struggling on tumblr and it’s sad but i’m gonna try really hard to make it work.
i love you all and i’ll hopefully see you over on my new accout.
The sky outside darkened a midnight blue as you sat quietly on the couch, watching shapes and colours contort on the television. Your mouth widened in a yawn as shuffling footsteps wandered over from the kitchen, they gently pattered until your boyfriend Doyoung appeared from behind a wall. His eyes darted around the room as he set a bowl of popcorn on the table, fingers curling around a piece before he lumped down beside you. His tall frame slumped on the sofa, arm nearest to you stretching around, giving you the room the snake around his torso. Cosying into Doyoung you felt his fingers bury into your waist, his other hand reaching over and grabbing the remote. You felt the rumble of a pondering sigh, Doyoung beginning to flick through the channels as he always did. He was indecisive, easily bored and on nights like this, where neither had work the next day or a reason to protest, you knew how it would end.
Even the night you met he was like this.
In college, you had found it difficult to bond with anyone. Parties were too loud, being alone in your dorm was too quiet, balancing the two was near impossible. Especially when you hadn’t had much experience with people or being away from home in the first place. In the end, you relied heavily on your roommate to take you out and show you the way of the world. And she tried her hardest, it’s just that not much of it interested you though you did try your best.
After another night sat in the quietest room of a frat party, you began to feel despondent to the entire college experience altogether. You flicked through the books in the bedroom you’d barricaded yourself in, sighing when a porno magazine fell from between two classic novels. You bent over to pick it up, skirt riding high although it didn’t seem to matter alone in the room. As your fingers grabbed the corner as to avoid any residue that may linger between pages, you heard the oak door behind you open wide. A panic washed over you, heat rising to your cheeks as you half expected to spin around and find a drunken couple wanting to consummate. Instead, as you turned, while holding the magazine behind your back cautiously, you saw a sober looking man stood in the doorframe.
The blush hanging over your cheeks only intensified. His stature was large, shoulders broad in his blue, baggy jumper. Eyes big and brown, dark hair falling into his eyes as his slender fingers came up to brush it away. You stood speechless as his bottom lip became hooked beneath his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment before he stepped into the room. Your chest felt thick with embarrassment. You kept the magazine pressed tightly to your back, stepping back and the man stepped forward.
‘Sorry, I thought this room was free.’ You said quietly.
‘Uh, no, no, it’s fine honestly, I just um, usually keep my bedroom off limits while there’s parties. I like it, clean, don’t want people you know, in my bed.’ The man whispered, and despite the loud music, you could hear his every low toned word perfectly.
‘Understandable. I’m really sorry, I just kinda wanted to get out the way of everyone,’ you chuckled nervously, ‘I don’t really like parties that much.’
‘Like I said, it’s fine.’ The man smiled wide, exposing a gummy grin that only made you blush further. ‘I’m Doyoung by the way.’ He finished, reaching his hand out to shake yours.
Instinctively, you lurched forward. The magazine slipping out of your grip for just a moment, but long enough for it to drop to the ground. It splayed open on the carpet, thudding wide to the centre fold. Your chest tightened; stomach burned. You couldn’t bare to look back at what Doyoung was seeing.
‘I’m so sorry.’ You apologized quickly.
‘Where was that?’
‘Um, on the bookshelf, between Dracula and Wuthering Heights. It kinda just fell out, I, um, wanted to read.’ You laughed at how ridiculous you sounded.
‘Oh, right.’ Doyoung managed somehow to look more worried than you, his fingers scratching at his head. As his arm raised up, so did his jumper, revealing the soft toned torso beneath. You felt yourself tighten.
‘Look, I’m sorry, I should let you get to bed or,’ you mumbled as quickly as you could, wishing to vanish from the building altogether. You spun on your heels once again, bending down to pick up the magazine and return it to its owner. However, when you did, you actually saw what was sprawled across the pages.
A woman was sat on a red, leather sofa in a pristine lingerie, her privates covered though the sheerness left nothing to the imagination. Her arms were twisted behind her back, threaded together perfectly with thick, crimson rope. Her legs were wide open on the sofa, still covered in the same beautiful rope but this time only for aesthetic purposes. The expression on her face was that of pleasure, eyes closed, mouth wide kind of pleasure. Her makeup and hair was immaculate, untouched. It was a beautiful image, the kind that could have gotten away with being in an art gallery.
Confusion waved over you. The expectation of seeing unrealistic, graphic depictions of two women or a woman and a man had been dashed. There was only a soft, artistic image that left you with no words, only a deep yearning that maybe one day, you could be that woman. Clearly desired, clearly within someone’s control but beautiful and immaculate all the same.
Doyoung let out a withering sigh as you lifted the magazine and turned to face him. He stepped closer, fighting back the urge to rip the magazine from your grasp and throw it underneath his bed. Doyoung waited for you to wrinkle your face in disgust, to snicker at the image but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, you began to flick through the images. Turning your head to see all the sideward pages, tracing your fingers over the threads of rope that where consistent throughout the entire magazine. You pondered at it as though it were an art magazine, you seemed to appreciate it as one. Doyoung was gobsmacked.
After a few moments, you closed the magazine, handing it over to Doyoung. He gently took it from you, his fingers dancing over yours for a moment before the heat of his digits disappeared.
‘It’s beautiful.’ You said without thinking.
‘What?’
‘Um, it’s beautiful.’ You repeated.
‘Yeah, yeah, it is.’ Doyoung concurred nervously, staring at your features as they twisted in thought.
‘Do people actually do that? Or is it just for the pictures?’
‘You mean the, the rope?’ Doyoung asked politely as you merely nodding back shyly, your lip between your teeth.
‘I think I’d like to try it.’ You admitted, looking up at Doyoung to find his eyebrows scrunched in disbelief. ‘With you, please.’ You finished, not quite understanding what you’d asked for, but knowing in your gut that it felt right.
Nearly two years later and you were still trying out so many different, new things with Doyoung. When you met, you were both shy. Wrapped up in desires both of you thought no one but you had, but meeting each other, it gave you both the outlet you desperately needed. You often looked for things to try, often on nights like this when you both had time to kill. Whether it was between the pages of magazines or online, you found that both you and Doyoung had an endless stream of erotic things you wanted to try.
A ritual you’d created early into your relationship was looking at the trending page of a porn site, rooting around for something you hadn’t already done a thousand times and trying it. No pre-judgements, no reservations, just trying something to see the outcome. There were times when you or Doyoung decided the thing was not for you but often enough, both of you found that whatever you did, as long as it was with each other, it was perfect. This ritual however meant that things often got a little taboo which didn’t bother either of you but there was a certain stigma to some things and sometimes that did give you reservations. Out of an ingrained habit that was built into all people, when you saw something strange, it took a lot to try it. But with Doyoung, you never felt uncomfortable.
Doyoung sighed from beside you signally that he could find nothing to watch and so, the ritual begun.
You peered up at him, eyes big and doe. Doyoung waited for a moment before looking down and smiling warmly. ‘You wanna choose something tonight?’
Your mouth lifted to smile back at him, nodding happily, hands almost snatching the remote from your boyfriend. He chuckled. Usually you both picked, though really, you’d go along with whatever Doyoung wanted. Letting you choose without protesting was a special occasion and it made you light up like nothing else. You opened up the website on the television, still shy about looking at such lewd things in front of someone else on a large scale. The screen became sodden with erotic video links and dirty advertisements, all clearly made by men who knew nothing about women. You tutted to yourself, flicking down through the pages and pages until something towards the bottom left caught your eye.
‘Naughty kitten punished.’
With eyebrows knotted you turned to Doyoung. ‘Is this really a thing? Dressing up like a cat, I mean, I know I’ve done it for Halloween but for, fucking?’
‘Of course, it is. If you can think of it, there’s probably porn made of it.’ He retorted with a smirk wiped across his lips.
‘I don’t like that sentiment.’
‘So, that’s a no?’ Doyoung peered, careening his head to stare his umber orbs into yours. His grip around your side tightened a little, allowing you to feel the warmth emanating from beneath his black t-shirt. From habit, you closed your eyes, enjoying the small circles he drew into your hip.
‘Well?’
‘I, I mean, it’s weird, right? Dressing up like an animal?’ You said sceptically.
‘Obviously, but it’s not out of the league of what we’ve done before.’ Doyoung added.
‘I guess.’
‘It’s your call, princess.’
‘Uh, I mean, I have the costume… maybe it’d be nice to get some use out of it?’ You felt yourself defending your ideas, ideas that you knew deep down Doyoung would never judge. And yet, the shame of desire was so engrained in you, that you could not help it.
‘Let’s go get you dressed then.’ Doyoung smiled, standing from the couch, his stature above you like a skyscraper. You fought back the urge to reach out for his jean button right then and instead smiled to yourself with sparks alight in your mind.
‘Maybe I should go alone, if you come, we’ll never get back out the bedroom.’ You taunted standing up beside Doyoung. His smile lowered as yours grew ten-fold. You found your hands resting on Doyoung’s wide shoulders, pushing him back slightly until he sat back against the sofa. His legs widened, back slumping, as though inviting you to sit atop him, instead, you began walking to the bedroom, a chuckle leaving your mouth.
After sulking into the bedroom, you shared with your boyfriend, you began the hunt for the outfit you’d worn once and long forgotten. While it was true that Doyoung accompanying you would’ve lead to something before you’d be able to grasp the costume, you also needed to root through your messy wardrobe for it. Which was, undoubtedly, a mood killer. Through grumbles and profanities, your hands dived through piles of clothes, each pile loosely organised by occasion. Dating Doyoung meant that the fancy dress pile was rather large and took some time to sift through. Until, almost at the bottom of the pile, two clip on ears poked out. As you grasped them, the soft fur tickled your palm, their deep brown nearly matching Doyoung’s eyes. Beneath the ears was a pink, leather collar that Doyoung had gifted you separate from the costume and to match, you pulled a set of pink, lacy lingerie from another messy pile.
You tugged down your sweatpants and removed the hoodie you’d stolen from Doyoung earlier in the day and pulled the pink lace over your head. The soft material felt like warm honey on your skin, and perfectly covered your body enough that you felt like the woman in that magazine. After slithering the undies up your bare legs, you grappled the ears once more. With fur between your fingers, you attached them high on your head, staring in the mirror at how sweet the clips looked. You smiled strangely excited for what you had been a little weirded out at first.
Staring down at your collar, a thought came to you, bringing warmth to your loin. You wandered over to a set of draws by the bed, heaved open the bottom section and pulled out a chain leash, the metal clasps jingling as you did so. Your smile grew as you flattened your hair and prepared yourself.
Timidly, you tiptoed back into the living room, head low as you approached where Doyoung still sat. With open palms, you knelt before your boyfriend, raising the items that sat atop your hands. After a few moments of silence, you peered up gently, looking over his face for any kind of emotion.
‘Look down.’ He muttered sullenly.
You followed his order immediately, keeping your palms up but eyes toward the hardwood floor. After another moment, the weight of the chain and collar disappeared and Doyoung’s feet came into your view and moved behind you. Though a cautious wave of anxiety rolled through your stomach, you still remained staring at the floor in silence. A sigh passed through your lips as cold fingers brushed your hair aside and cool leather pressed against your throat. Doyoung’s cold digits appeared again as he buckled up the collar and latched on the chain leash to hold you in place.
His hand remained low of the chain, gripping it so tight that it choked you slightly but still, you stared at the ground, motionless. A low snicker came from behind you, making your stomach swirl and tighten as moisture moved toward your heat. It was torture not to turn and look at him but following his orders was more important. You waited for what felt like forever until a palm mellowed over the top of your head, soothing over your hair, and following over the ears. Doyoung’s frame moved around you, allowing for you to see his lower legs once more and just knowing he was there, that he was the one touching you made it harder not to look up.
‘Look up at me baby.’ Doyoung finally said.
Your head snapped up immediately, big eyes staring desperately toward Doyoung and the grin smeared across his face. The confidence clearing instilled in him was terrifying and so, so arousing. You mewled, Doyoung raising his eyebrows as he smoothed over your head once more. From instinct you pushed your head up into his palm, nuzzling close to feel warmth from him.
‘My good kitten.’
A warmth filled your lower region, burning with every moment Doyoung touched you in any way. Until suddenly, a large heave bevelled through your body, the chain rattling as you were forced to push into Doyoung’s legs. Your hands leant atop his feet, wide eyes begging him to do something, anything. Doyoung merely grinned, tugging on the chain once more as he sat back on the couch and pulled you between his legs. Your features faced his crotch, mouth only a few inches from his covered length that tented his tight jeans. Just seeing you knelt before him, perky ears and collar and pink lace made him unimaginably hard and Doyoung struggled to compose himself. One more tug on your leash and your chin came to sit above his thigh. Doyoung released the chain, sitting it beside himself as he moved his fingers to his jeans.
You felt yourself smile, knowing what was to come. Pushing your face against his thigh, you purred, nose nuzzling into his clothed muscles. Doyoung let out a splintered moan, coaxing you to continue. As you did, you heard the undoing of a zip and rustling of thick material. The silence that settled in after is what made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw Doyoung holding his member tightly, slowly moving his hand up and down. He kept his darkened gaze locked upon you. Moving his other hand, Doyoung cupped your cheeks, soothing his thumb over the blush that painted your skin. His fingers moved slowly until he danced them to the back of your neck, his grip tightening and forcing your face forward. He pulled violently until you were face to face with his length.
‘Go on, kitten.’ Doyoung whispered.
He pushed his length toward you slightly, allowing your lips to engulf the tip and sink down the shaft. Doyoung let his head fall back against the sofa pillow and a low growl fall from his mouth. His noises only propelled you to continue, head bobbing up and down quickly as his member began to hit the back of your throat. It burnt, a kind of burning that travelled all the way down to your core, that was beginning to drip with desire. You lifted your hands and placed them atop Doyoung’s thighs for stability. Doyoung gripped your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to control your pace. The tightness spread all over your body and ached in your loin. A need for Doyoung to be buried deep within you exploded.
The speed became relentless as you peered upward, staring at Doyoung’s scrunched up features; small, rhythmic groans pouring from his lips. You longed to kiss him, to nuzzle your fuzzy ears into the crook of his neck. You wished to be his pet forever.
‘Baby, stop, stop.’ Doyoung repeated frantically, pulling your mouth off his length by your hair. You understood why he stopped, for he wanted to be within you just as much as you wanted him inside you, but the loss of contact hurt, nonetheless. Spit dribbled from your lips, lining from Doyoung’s member to your mouth. He groaned low once more as you mewled, staring up at him with pleading eyes.
Watching from the ground, Doyoung pushed his hard member back in his jeans, sat up straight and patted his lap. You nearly leap up, pouncing onto Doyoung like the kitten you were pretending to be. With legs either side of him and arms slung over his shoulders, you waited. His expression twisted into a smirk, a devilish thought swirling around his mind.
‘Lie down on me, ass up.’ He muttered sternly. You watched his eyes for a further moment before Doyoung raised his eyebrows and nodded downward at his lap. You lifted yourself slightly and flipped over, placing your waist in Doyoung’s lap. Your face burrowed into the couch, feet kicking the edge of the seat and heat pressing directly onto Doyoung’s still stiff length. After a second, you felt as your boyfriend pulled your lace underwear down your thighs, cold fingers dragging over your skin. He lingered them back up to your ass, spreading his palm wide over the flesh. Doyoung kept it there for a moment, still and gentle, your stomach settling before suddenly, his touch disappeared and reappeared with a sharp, jolting sting.
A yelp came spurting out your lips, a chuckling emanating from Doyoung as again, his touch left and smacked back down. You mewled helplessly, another slap.
‘Count for me, okay kitten, five more.’ He said softly, swaying his hand over your red, hot skin before once more, lifting it and slapping it back down. A gasp escaped your throat.
‘One.’
Doyoung chuckled again, forcing down a particularly devilish spank.
‘Two.’
Your ass burnt painfully, the side that Doyoung had been slapping beginning to feel bruised and swollen. It was beautiful, and as another hit pummelled down upon you, a wave of pleasure rippled through you.
‘Three.’
Another.
‘Four.’
Doyoung soothed over your skin one more time as he lifted his hand and brought it down mercilessly. You yelped once more, feeling the other side burn just as the first. A small tear spat from your eye, trickling down your cheek and dripping onto the couch below.
‘Five.’ You croaked.
You lay down for a moment, air aggressively attacking your bruised ass as Doyoung removed his hand and placed into on the back of your thigh. He gently stroked the skin, giving you a few moments to catch your breath and recuperate.
Doyoung held onto your upper arm, pulling you up to kneel beside him. A finger coming up to swipe away a stray tear.
‘Do you wanna stop? We can?’ He enquired softly; eyes tender as his hand careened your jaw.
‘Fuck no.’ You said, leaping over once more to sit back in Doyoung’s lap, legs either side of his and lips reaching forward to kiss the man beneath you. With mouths collided, you wrangled your arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, his tongue darting between your lips and exploring your mouth. Instinctively, you began playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pulling slightly so Doyoung tilted his head back. You took advantage of the position, dragging your lips down to kiss and nibble at his slender neck. Doyoung groaned, his hands wandering to the underwear that still sat at your thighs, pulling them lower until they could no longer move. You felt the material dig into your flesh, stuck in their current position. While you wanted your bare heat to sit against Doyoung, you dreaded the idea of moving. He tugged again, helpless.
‘Rip them, rip them please, please.’ You begged, merely wanting to feel him beneath you, desperate for any pressure or friction against your heat.
‘Sure?’
‘Do it.’
Doyoung wrapped his fingers around one side of the fragile, lacy material and heaved it apart. The sound of ripping filled the room as Doyoung groaned, moving the material away as finally, he had access to your core. You felt the bulge in his jeans harden once more, pressed tight to the wetness that was pooling from within you. It burnt to be so close but separated by the already unzipped jeans. Doyoung held your hips, pushing you down to tease. A whimper fell from your lips.
‘Aw, is my kitten desperate? What does she want?’
‘You, please, I want you.’ You mumbled, unable to speak properly from sheer desperation.
‘Want me? To do what?’
‘I want you to fuck me! Please, fuck me!’ You almost screamed helplessly, Doyoung merely grinning, proud he had made you so desperate.
With his hands on your hips, Doyoung pushed you backwards further down his thighs. Giving him enough room to pull his jeans below his waist, allowing his hard member to spring gently from the material. It clung, pressed between his groin and your heat, that had, by now, created a wet patch on Doyoung’s trousers. You pushed upward, kneeling as you moved back up the thighs below you. Doyoung held your waist with one hand and with the other, moved his member to the entrance of your core. He was moving slow, but you wanted him, wanted him buried within you. And so, you pushed downward, feeling as you sunk onto Doyoung and he disappeared within you.
Doyoung let out a moan as you whimpered. The feeling of him inside you, putting pressure against you was intoxicating, so intoxicating that you could not move for a moment. As you began moving, slowly up and down Doyoung’s length, every inch of him burnt against every inch of you. The man below held desperately onto your hips, pulling you up and down to take complete control of the pace. The rhythmic tempo made a coil of pleasure begin to spin in your stomach, the grip upon you tight and almost painful. Another whimper fell from your lips as Doyoung let his head tilt back in pleasure. You shook, placing your hands upon his shoulders for stability, body nearly slumping against him.
His fingers began to trail up your body, tracing the pink, sheer lace that covered your breasts, swirling past and up your throat. His journey stopped, fingers halting and spreading up against your skin as he grappled the chain that attached to the collar. You let a loud moan explode into the atmosphere as you lifted yourself up and down Doyoung’s member, the pleasure in your loin beginning to burn. Low growls fell from Doyoung’s mouth, filling your ears like music as his grip upon you, both on your waist and collar, tightened. Air tightly passed through your windpipe, head spinning as you arched yourself quicker upon Doyoung. He growled loudly, his face scrunching up in pleasure as you felt him release inside of you, the warm liquid applying even more pressure inside your heat. The hot, wet feeling made you complete, and you felt yourself tighten and spasm on his member.
A last, prolonged mewl fell from your lips as you ceased your movements, still sat upon Doyoung’s member. His tempered sighs filled the room, grip on your collar loosening and hand falling back to your waist. You fell into Doyoung. Chests pressed together as sweat mixed like a cocktail of pleasure and sleepiness. Doyoung wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close, your cheek pressed flush against the crook of his neck. While holding you, Doyoung lifted slightly, giving him enough room to remove himself from your heat. A stifled moan fell from both of you, heat swelling around the room. You sighed, sleepy upon your equally tired boyfriend.
‘That was nice.’ You whimpered in a hushed tone.
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Doyoung agreed, your head tilting upward to stare into his big, doe eyes. ‘C’mon kitten, let’s go and get you cleaned up and in bed.’ He soothed, fingers weaving through your hair as you purred once more against his chest. Nuzzling into him as your ears nudged his chin.
Bro I’m not into NCT anymore, but you’ve got me hooked on scarred leash. That shit is too good. The storyline, plot, characters and just everything so far are amazing. It’s something I’d give a chefs kiss to. You’re an amazing writer and I love all your other work tooooooo ❤️❤️
thank you so so much, this means the world to me... i’m so glad you’re enjoying it, i love writing it and it’s reignited my love for writing fics 💗
i will be posting a part of scarred leash (my ongoing mark fanfic) every monday from now, if you would like to see any other fanfic on here, please send requests to my inbox. ʕ￫ᴥ￩ ʔ
warnings: suggestive content, mentions of self harm, bdsm
part 1: scarred leash [1] - m.l
I had never felt pain quite like a hangover before, the dizziness of it, the hazy filter that lingered over my vision. It was completely awful, bad enough to put me off drinking for months to come. Though still, I felt thankful that Rose had taken me along, let me experience the night life in London. I had drunk alcohol, danced, kiss a stranger and then, cut myself. The ending perhaps wasn’t the high point, but the rest of the night had been incredible, and I needed to focus on that, the good. Particularly because work continued on as normal the following day. So, aside my throbbing head and pulsating arm, I was forced from the safety of my house and into work.
The entire world was dialled up to ten, the sky too bright, noise far too loud and each person that spoke to me or even nudged past my body seemed to annoy me beyond limit. I should have called in sick, I should have made up an excuse to stay home but instead, I pushed on. My arm was still bleeding the following day, leaking small droplets of blood onto my sheets. I tried my best to stop the bleeding but even through the doors on my workplace, I could feel the dampness attach itself to my shirt. Thankfully I had worn something red, so no one would notice, my stiff smile successfully convincing everyone that nothing was the matter. And the day went on as if everything was the same, as though my mind weren’t completely clouded over with sensual worry. Though I covered my anxiety with the mounds of work that stacked up on my desk, the thoughts were always lingering, attached to me like a mite. My entire knowledge of my own sexuality had dissolved and now, I worried I might never feel that relief ever again. That I would forever remain displeased, teetering on the edge.
As hours passed in the office, I had resolved to chewing my nails down to the nub and tapping my feet on my chair to help calm my nerves. I couldn’t think to eat or drink anything, nor could I think my work through entirely. The worst part was being aware that I wasn’t working to my own standards, merely because I was worried about my already non-existent sex life. The entire thing felt pathetic, a worry that changed my life not the slightest but simultaneously, changed everything. Ignoring the subject didn’t seem to help and so I spent much of my day allowing myself to fester over it. Letting my thoughts on the matter crawl in my stomach and turn over until I felt entirely too sick.
I thought of going into the bathroom, locking myself in a stall and crying for the rest of the day. Sobbing until my eyes were puffy and my throat was raw but that wasn’t possible. More paper was pushed onto my desk, the stack piling up until it seemed to threaten its topple. I watched it helplessly, trying to glance at the numbers and type them up as I did every day. My computer slowed to a near halt, the old models they used in the office weren’t particularly reliable, but they never froze like this. I felt a stiff groan bubble up my throat and explode into the air, my back arching from my chair as I desperately wiggled the mouse, willing it to work. My hopes were useless, the unfinished chart sprawled out across the screen, almost mocking my anguish. I could feel a growing need to bawl in my chest, lungs aching as they tried to control my breathing. Another round of muffled huffs coming from my mouth as I pushed myself away from my desk. The mouse clattered against the wood and fell to the ground, the thud roaming the room as heads perked up from the stalls surrounding me. I wished no one to come over and through the hope and my annoyed glare, people seemed to understand.
A moment passed before I even dared to glance upward, to pull myself back into the distressing reality of the scene I’d created. As I slowly returned myself to it, I watched a figure wander toward me, standing in the same place it had before. Mark held a tender expression, kind eyes sullen as he watched me pull myself back to the desk. Part of me wanted him to leave me be, to go back to his own stall and forget that this had ever happened, though, I could have used help with the computer. My eyes caught his, the umber warmth of them soothing the nausea in my tummy. A subdued smile bit at the corners of my mouth as I watched him lean over and inspect my frozen computer. My body careened to the side in order to give the boy beside me more room, his figure awkwardly close to me all of a sudden.
The warmth radiating from his skin expelled onto mine, making my cheeks flush maroon as I admired his tense expression. His fingers outstretched over the mouse he had picked from the floor, his hand tensing as he clicked. Small groans left his mouth as he furiously tried to make the device work but just as I had experienced, it wasn’t complying whatsoever. Mark began viciously wiggling the mouse as I had, the groans becoming louder as he reached over to press on the keyboard. I tried to move my body away though by the time he had leant over, his arm had already stretched over my chest. I pushed backward, my skin burning where his suit shirt had brushed against me, chest aching from the tension. As I watched him attentively, Mark pushed on random keys, mumbling away to himself in the deepness of his accent. The smile poking at my lips grew a little wider, my shaky fingers keeping to their place on the desk as they began wanting to run over the digits of his hand. Wanting to feel the glow of his tanned skin, the supple shape of his fingers, the curvature of his hand.
His groans continued as he pressed more keys, my eyes flitting back to the screen every so often. While he pressed a few, the computer began working a little, the screen changing. The uncompleted graph disappearing from it as suddenly things began popping up. At first it was merely the internet homepage, or my work email, as things that were easily mistakenly opened, though as he pressed more buttons, it became more personal. Mark clicked down on a page accidentally, my web browser history appearing on the screen, my stomach immediately tightening to a painful degree.
Unfortunately, there was no computer in my flat and the one at work was easily accessible. I hadn’t looked up anything explicit, nor had I gone looking for anything that would warrant a scolding. However, in the past few weeks I had been researching different things under incognito tabs, areas that I had maybe had interest in but had never understood. My internet history boasted no scandalous films but instead mere questions such as “what is masochism?” and “how to know if you are a masochist?” I hadn’t quite understood it still but at least my curiosity was satisfied although now, my curiosity was open to Mark. I could see him reading through the search history, sounding out words that brushed against his lips. Through the tense expression scrawled into his face, I could see him working it all out in his head. The cogs twisting until his lips hung open slightly, eyes still stuck to the screen not moving. By the time I reacted about five seconds after the page had popped up, it was far too late.
In a flurry of panic, I lifted my still bleeding arm and swiped it across the desk. My fingers knocking over Mark’s hand as I reached to close the page and in turn, hide my dwindling curiosity into sex. I tried my best to close the tab quickly but as I did so, I failed to notice my sleeve riling up, revealing another thing I wished Mark to not know. I raised up until half of my forearm was showing, slashes marking the skin, the blood and collection of scars coating the newer cuts all visible to the man leaning over me. My stomach twisted so uncomfortably I felt vomit rise in my throat, my entire body clenching while I pulled my arm back and hid the cuts once more.
I waited, expecting Mark to begin spewing out profanities and accusations that I was completely insane. Which may have been true but still, I didn’t want such things screamed out into the office. I waited a moment more, expecting it to come at any minute now but as time withered on, it never did. Mark merely stared down at the table top for a while, his eyes still just as soft and tender as they had been toward me before. And as he eventually glanced up, his expression was sympathetic, not at all disgusted or even the slightest bit confused. In fact, I felt like I was the one who was perplexed, my pulse oddly regular for the situation, though my mind was still hazy and spinning. I merely glanced back up at Mark, his almond eyes stuck on mine as though I would shatter if he looked away even for a second. My other hand came up to cradle my injured arm, hiding it from Mark.
‘Ellie,’ He mumbled suddenly, his voice quiet.
‘It’s okay, I’m fine.’
‘Did you, did you do these?’ He asked softly, fingers moving slightly closer toward almost as though he wanted to reach out and help. I couldn’t bring myself to let him, I couldn’t even bring myself to give him an honest answer.
‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’ I let myself whisper.
‘They look pretty serious.’
‘They’re fine.’ I answered quickly, gaping up at him with cold eyes trying my best to remain completely composed. Though I knew tears were poking at my orbs, my cheeks hot with embarrassment.
‘Okay.’ Mark mumbled sadly, his voice rough as if it were nearly breaking. In part, I was still glad he hadn’t mentioned the search history though I was sure self-harming was a little more serious that some searches. His voice closed off altogether, and his body began drifting from my desk. Hands lifting from the surface as his eyes disconnecting from mine. It should have been a relief but instead, it only made me feel worse.
As Mark continued to tread away from me, I felt a nauseating thought that he might tell someone overwhelm me. My chest burning as I blurted out his name into the office, his head turning and feet stepping nearer me, so I could keep my voice quiet.
‘Please don’t tell anyone.’
‘Of course.’ He muttered back to me, nodding as he spoke trying his best to force a smile over his lips. I mirrored his expression faux security coming over my mouth as I watched him return to wander from me. A tear spat down my cheek as Mark turned the corner to sit back at his own desk, his form disappearing altogether. I felt so entirely awful, for impending that on him, someone who likely wanted nothing to do with me, or my own looming thoughts about pain and masochism. Someone who likely wanted to work alongside with me with no hassle, and now he knew so much more than I’d ever intended. I felt I had ruined it, ruined whatever chance I had at a friendship with someone nearer my own age, with someone as polite and witty as Mark. I’d ruined it, and I felt now as though my communications with him were entirely over, that the conversation would be our last.
I tried to not talk about work too much with Rose and tried not to discuss personal things with any one of my co-workers. I kept the two entirely separate and merely peddled through life aimlessly, allowing a sense of emptiness to come over me. Routine bevelled down into me so strongly that I couldn’t envision myself ever straying from it, and that, upset me. I returned home again, an entire week since I had spoken to Mark, since he had seen two sides of myself that I kept locked up. I tried not to think about it much and Mark had continued to smile at me as we passed one another in the hallway but it still felt like a nagging scab.
My body pulled itself from the chilly atmosphere on the street into the familiar warmth of my home. Feet pacing up the stairs until I stepped into the living room and spotted Rose sprawled out across the sofa. A throw away television show was chattering away in the background, though Rose quickly forgot about it as she heard my entry. Her head poking up from its place on the couch, her beaming grin greeting me as I strode further into the room, my dull expression a juxtaposition to hers. I wandered over and slumped my body beside her on the sofa, limbs a jangled mess as they stretched my work clothes. I grumbled beneath my breath, Rose sitting up, allowing me more room as she chuckled at my obvious displeasure. Her hand cradled my shoulder, careened around me on the back of the sofa while I melted into her hold, thankful to be home. I huffed out a relieved sigh, my eyes scrunching as Rose again, merely chuckled.
‘You alright, pumpkin?’ Rose asked, my eyes opening to look at her as I nodded in response.
‘Just knackered.’
‘The harsh reality of the working world.’ My roommate exclaimed dramatically, throwing her free arm out into the air as she threw her head back. I felt a supple grin nudge the corners of my lips but still, I couldn’t make myself smile, not even for Rose.
I groaned from below, head slumped on the pillows surrounding my motionless form. ‘Says you! You go on dates for a living.’ I felt a chuckle leave my lips, looking up to find Rose grinning back at me. We didn’t often discuss her profession, she had only briefly mentioned her multitude of perverted sugar daddies and the snippets I heard made me feel sick. Though it didn’t make me think any less of her, in fact, it only gained her more of my respect.
‘Hey, you know how hard it is to keep a customer satisfied? Especially when that customer is an old, white, closeted gay man.’
‘And you’re very talented at it.’ I added, lifting myself so I could sit up and maintain eye contact without my neck snapping. Rose beamed and shrugged as she often did when receiving compliments.
‘I know, I’m brilliant.’ I giggled as she spoke, leaning my head on the soft muscle of her bicep. My forced laughter filled the room so wholly that I almost missed the question that then fell from Rose’s mouth.
‘So, any girls or guys you like?’
My head perked up from her arm, eyes squinting for a moment before I pieced together what she had asked. I immediately understood that she was referring to Mark, who I had mentioned in passing once or twice. Though the only information I had let out was that he was sweet, attractive and close to my age. If Rose had asked me the same question the week prior, I may have been inclined to grin entirely smitten and mumble away about the crescent shape Mark’s hair naturally fell in. Or the way his bottom lip would dip between his teeth in concentration, or how he mumbled cute profanities when the coffee machine wouldn’t work. But now, I just felt upset, knowing that I couldn’t rant away about him like an infatuated schoolgirl. Instead, as Rose waited for an answer, I pulled my knees up to my chest and huffed.
‘No, not really.’
‘What about that skinny Asian kid from work?’ Rose interrogated, a slight smile coming to my mouth at how she referred to Mark. Out of all the physical qualities, she had picked that he was skinny and Asian as the defining ones though I supposed, to anyone that only knew him in passing, that’s all he was.
‘Mark?’
‘Yeah, yeah, the guy from work.’
‘You mean, the skinny Asian kid from work?’ I quipped, eyebrows furrowed as Rose rolled her dark orbs.
‘I couldn’t remember his name, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s cool.’ I mumbled, hoping we could forget the topic of Mark altogether.
‘So?’ Rose nudged me with the tip of her elbow, prodding the bone into the pulpy flesh of my upper arm.
‘So?’
‘You like him, right?’
‘Uh, yeah, he’s cute.’ I said, trying to stay nonchalant, as though it were a surface level sort of thing, like most crushes were supposed to be.
‘And he’s nice?’
‘Yeah.’ I mumbled staring down at my feet, feeling the words Mark had said to me last roll back like patient waves on a shore.
‘So, ask him out.’ Rose near commanded, her voice higher in pitch as she muttered the suggestion. My eyes snapped upward to glare at her, head shaking adamantly while she merely smiled at me. As though she knew something I was completely hidden from. I continued shaking my head, face tensing.
‘Why not?’
‘I just, I don’t know.’ I exclaimed, my voice raising in volume as I began to feel more strongly about the topic. ‘There’s so many things that could go wrong with dating, and relationships and besides, I have no idea what I’m doing with, any of it.’
‘Ask him to teach you.’ Rose uttered, wiggling her eyebrows furiously. My palm came up to lightly tap her arm, though it didn’t stop the giggles from filling the entirety of the room.
‘No! Oh my god!’
Rose continued to laugh as the idea of my virtue, of the concepts that roamed the depths of her mind while mine sank to a different place. Recalling how, if even I wanted to try something with Mark, I couldn’t. My laughs stopped completely, mind replaying out last conversation as though it were one of the macabre erotic films I watched when I was younger.
‘He, saw my cuts last week,’ I whispered, barely audible but still, Rose caught it. Her laughter stopping and head raising as she listened intently. ‘At work.’
‘Saw them, saw them?’
‘Yeah, he, uh, yeah.’ I stifled, my voice cracking.
‘Did he say anything?’ Rose asked. I was unsure how to answer that question for I was unsure what a normal person would say if they saw a co-worker self-harming. If it would be more rational to throw a fit like I had expected, or merely go on with life like you’d never known, like Mark had.
‘Not really. It, um, it kinda seemed like he was, but then he didn’t. I asked him not to, not to tell anyone or anything like that, so he didn’t. He did exactly what I told him to.’ I explained miserably.
‘He’s nice.’
‘Yeah…’ I mumbled, trying to shake the sombre from my bones, ‘can we talk about something else, um, what about Andy?’
‘Andy?’ Rose repeated as though she had never heard that name in her life which caused me to sigh.
‘Yeah, how is he? I haven’t seen him since we went out, and you haven’t talked about him.’
‘Oh, he’s okay.’ Rose stated, as if I should have known. ‘We’re just, not seeing each much at the moment, he works,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘beside, we’re in an open relationship, it’s not like I’m lonely. Guys flock to me, because,’ she waited for me to answer.
‘Because you’re gorgeous, and sexually insatiable, as I have heard on numerous occasions.’
‘And,’
‘And?’
‘I’m hung.’ Rose said triumphantly, smiling ear to ear fraudulently. ‘The body of a twink and the feminine mind of a lady.’
‘And soon, you’ll have the mind of a woman and the body of one, right? I mean, they’re starting you on hormone at some point?’ Rose had mentioned hormone a couple times and often obsessed over her doctor’s appointment, I understood why. It was imperative that she transition soon, she had waited for so long already.
‘Sure, next month apparently,’ she shrugged, ‘but I’m not done saving up money and I need a lot of it, for top surgery.’ I hadn’t heard the term before and I couldn’t put my finger on what it meant.
‘Top surgery?’ I enquired like a bewildered child.
‘Boobs.’
‘Oh,’ I felt stupid for not getting it though Rose seemed to take pity on that fact, ‘well, you’ll get them soon. And besides, boobs are overrated anyway.’ I consoled her. I knew the pain of lugging around the lumps of fat on my chest and often wished my breasts to shrink down until they were pretty and perky. But for Rose, it was incredibly important that she experience every facet of being a woman, because she was one.
‘Not for me, I’ve wanted them since I was eight, I want them so bad.’ She groaned, pushing her hands against the stuffed bra she always wore.
‘I’ll donate, you can have mine.’ I smiled, falling into her once more as she held my form in her arms.
‘Aw, thank you chick pea.’ I giggled at the return of her nicknames and listened as she laughed in harmony with me. Our chuckles poured out into the room, dancing through the air until they were burrowed beneath a louder, harsher sound. The sound of our telephone ringing out into the flat, deafening us with its powerful spray of noise. I was taken aback, shocked by the sound though I was the one to jump up. Lifting myself from beside Rose and running across the room to grab the device, doing anything to stop the sound. My thumb hit answer and my fingers pressed the phone to my ear as the loud ringing abruptly stopped.
I waited for a voice.
‘Hello?’ I called out into the phone.
‘Is this Ellie, uh, Ellie Brewer?’ The accent, the accent. It danced to me through the phone line, I knew, merely from the accent alone.
‘Yes, sorry, who’s speaking?’ I questioned although my mind had already latched onto the answer.
‘Oh, shit, sorry. It’s Mark, hi.’ He audibly worried, his voice spewing out short words as though his mind were too cloudy to process anything more.
‘Hi.’ I mewled back to him.
‘Sorry for calling out the blue.’
‘No, no, it’s cool, I just, didn’t expect it.’ It was me who was flapping, my speech awkward and all too breathy for my natural tone. My stomach was in knots, chest barely able to breathe without feeling the relief of burn that riled over it. Mark had called me, he had called me with no prompt, merely because he wished to do so. It felt fake, as though my vision were coated with a dreamlike sensation that tingled in my fingertips.
‘What’s up?’ I called out to him once more, this time stifling my nerves until he wouldn’t be able to hear them.
‘Do you, wanna go for a drink with me?’ Mark asked softly, the deepness of his accent pouring out to me over the phone line. An ache dulled in my loin, fingers shaking as they struggled to hold the phone to my ear.
‘Uh sure,’ I coughed out through thick nerves, ‘when?’
‘Now?’ He asks, my chest aching ten times over. I began to panic, now? I felt awful, full of snot and slumber from long hours of work though the idea of seeing Mark invigorated me like nothing else ever had.
‘Right,’
‘Is it bad timing?’ He began worrying aloud again.
‘No, no, I’d love to.’ I cut him off.
‘Cool,’ I listened to him sigh on the other side of the line, his transfixing groan fluttering toward me yet again, making my stomach turn. ‘If you tell me your address, I could come pick you up?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I glanced back at Rose who was merely sat staring at me, her eyes wild and smile crazed. Though giddy curiosity smirked over her face, I knew she could already guess who was on the phone. I grinned back at her before turning all my attention once again, to Mark. ‘It’s 56 Gresham Road, near Brixton Station.’
‘Oh right, cool.’
‘Is that close to you?’
‘About twenty minutes away, it’s not too far. So, when should I come round?’ He enquired rather innocently.
‘Couple hours?’
‘Yeah, yeah, cool, cool. I’ll see you then.’
‘See you in a bit.’ I mumbled back to him before putting the phone back down on the stand, allowing the call to come to an end. My hands gripped the side of the bookshelf for stability, my skin feverishly sweaty. Mark called.
As I turned back around and trail back to the sofa, Rose stared at me in awe, clearly concerned about my expression. One of panic, dazed, excited, but panic, nonetheless. She waited for me to sit beside her before the sudden tsunami of questions hits me, her hand holding onto my covered forearm as I gazed up at her.
‘Was that?’
‘Mark.’ I nodded slowly, a smile beginning to crack at my lips, mouth outstretched until I looked sufficiently crazy. Though by the time I said his name, Rose seemed as dizzily happy as I was, her giggles roaming the room. She jumped in her spot on the sofa, tugging on my arm.
‘Really! Oh my god, did you give him your number?’
‘No, I think he got it from Marge, another co-worker, office mum, wants me to get out there.’ I chuckled, still bewildered by the call. I sat back on the couch, allowing it to sink in, that he would be here in two hours.
‘So? What did he say?’
‘He invited me out for drinks.’ I grinned up at Rose, my body leaning into her as I chuckled.
‘Yes! When?’
‘In two hours.’
‘Holy shit, holy shit.’ Rose continued to mumble the two words underneath her breath, eyes skipping across the room in more panic than I had.
‘I know.’
‘Right,’ she said calmly, standing up before me and reaching out her hands. I placed my fingers in her palms, allowing her to haul me up from the comfort and safety of the sofa. ‘We have to make you look fuckable.’
‘Rose!’ I exclaimed, partially offended that she didn’t think I looked fuckable in that moment, or always. But also beginning to panic that that was why Mark had invited me out. My thighs pursed together in worry yet supple, slightly too innocent curiosity.
‘More fuckable.’ Rose corrects herself.
‘Thanks.’ I roll my eyes, my hands sweaty as Rose guides me from the living room and toward her room. A room filled with glitters and showy clothes, things that were gorgeous, beautiful like Rose. My stomach tightened at the idea of wearing anything but a pencil skirt in the presence of Mark.
‘C’mon, I’ll help you get ready.’ My friend insisted, leading me to her makeshift salon as I mentally prepared myself for all that was to come that night. A thick belt of nerves gulping down my throat all at once.
The knock finally came after twenty minutes of sitting around, after Rose had finished her renovation job on me. I felt sick, and shy all of a sudden. Rose had to nudge my arm to pry me from my seat, watching proudly as I waved her goodbye and disappeared down the stairs. My feet shook as I wandered the steps, my trainers more comfortable than the stilettos Rose had suggested. I hadn’t the strength to walk in them all night and besides, if I had worn them, I would likely tower over Mark.
Mark.
He would be stood behind the door, not in a silver suit that was slightly too large for him. He would be wearing normal clothes, his tired eyes a little sleepy this late into the night, his hair messy. My thighs tensed, pushing myself to the door and pulling the barrier back with nervous fingers. As the separation disappeared, I was finally able to see the boy stood on my doorstep. I felt myself smile at the mere sight of him, his eyes glancing over my figure as his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. I was definitely out of my comfort zone, but there was no doubt that Rose had improved upon me. Styling me almost methodically to show off every good feature, my breasts, bright eyes, long legs. And somehow still minimizing my boyish hips and waist and my fat that loomed over my tummy and legs. I didn’t mind the way I looked when Rose styled me, I felt good, almost bordering on confident. Though I was nothing compared to how Mark appeared in the darkening light of the street.
The relaxed atmosphere only seemed to highlight how beautiful he was. Hair tousled and messy, exposing his forehead only slightly, it fell naturally, like the branches of a tree. Scattered onto his skin that shone underneath the streetlight, dotted moles appearing like stars in the consolation of his complexion. I wished to kiss him then and there, and let this immense longing be done with. Though instead, I smiled politely and stepped down off my doorstep to wander with him. Watching as he pulled the sleeves of his brown jumper up to show his forearms, his hands almost begging to be held. I found the courage to step away from the safety of my home and begin the journey to whichever bar Mark was to choose.
‘You look really nice.’ I mumbled toward him, his eyes lighting up as he grinned. His fingers began to fumble around themselves, his posture still tense.
‘Thanks, you look, really pretty.’ I merely smiled in response, the wideness of the grin far too toothy but still, I hoped he would find it endearing anyhow.
We only spoke fleetingly to one another as we ambled through the streets, though his eyes were stuck to me like pins, looking as I admired each building. I liked being watched by him, I liked being underneath the scrutiny of his care, I enjoyed his gaze attached to me. My fingers fumbled with the ends of my own sleeves, tugging them down instinctively all the way to the bar. I could tell Mark had selected it before coming to pick me up, that it wasn’t a spur of the moment choice. Instead, it seemed he had deliberately picked a bar that was warm, full of energy and bright lights, everything that would peak my interest. My eyes widened up at him as we wandered into the building, the silence between us comfortable, natural. I inspected each detail of the bar, the neon signs attached to the walls, the pretty pastel colour palette, the selection of alcohol lining the bar wall. A wash of shock came over me when I saw how empty the bar was though I knew most people favoured louder clubs. In this building however, the music was quiet, peaceful as was the atmosphere. I stood, merely gawping up at it all as Mark chuckled, the angelic sound bringing my attention back down upon him.
He sat at the bar first, tapping the seat beside him with his slender fingers. I watched intently and followed his motion, placing myself next to his figure and staring up at him for the next order.
‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Are we,’ I leant in slightly, ‘drinking alcohol?’
Mark chuckled, ‘If you like.’
‘I’ll just have a coke.’ I smiled at him, feeling slightly clueless without the guidance of Rose with me. I watched as Mark ordered the drinks, his voice calm and smooth as he did so. It was odd seeing him out of the office like this, where he and everyone else were equals instead of him being surrounded by older people. In here, Mark seemed entirely in control of himself and the atmosphere entirely.
‘This is awkward?’ He half asked.
‘No,’ I shook my head immediately, ‘I don’t feel awkward, I’m just, a little bit nervous.’
‘You’re nervous?’ Mark chuckled, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head a little. I smiled at his adorable actions.
‘Yeah.’
‘I was nervous to ask,’ he confessed, pressing a finger to his chest, ‘I’ve been trying to rile up the courage to do it all week.’ I felt my chest tighten as he spoke, his words sweet like honey. I began to let my mind drift to our previous, brief conversation, how that would have added to his nerves, or even caused them.
‘Is that the only reason you didn’t ask sooner?’ I enquired softly, my voice just above a whisper. Mark pulled himself closer to my stool, his knee skimming against the thigh high socks Rose had put me in. I pressed my thighs tighter together, afraid if I opened them any amount that I would show much more than I expected.
‘Well, that and, I needed to think, I guess.’ Mark sighed as he spoke, lifting a hand and sprawling his digits out in his hair. As he dropped the hand back to his jeans with a soothing slap, he spoke again. ‘Does that sound like an excuse, it isn’t, I just.’
‘No, not at all.’ I interrupted.
‘Cool.’ He smiled to himself and looked up as the bartender returned with two glasses. The tall man placed them down onto the table top.
‘Here you are, one coke and one Ribena, enjoy.’ He smiled politely, exchanging the drinks with Mark’s money before leaving us once more. Mark cupped his face in his palm, sighing as he let his features drop against the shield. I merely giggled.
‘Well, that’s embarrassing.’ Mark groaned, peering up and looking over his childish drink.
‘No, no, it’s cute.’ I assured him, watching as he immediately pulled the drink toward himself.
‘In that case.’ He mumbled and began taking sips from the glass and I followed his actions, allowing the benign fluid to fill my tummy. We sat for a moment and let our drinks settle, before Mark began fidgeting again, shuffling in his seat.
‘So,’
‘So?’ I giggled.
‘Tell me all about yourself.’
‘Myself.’ I whispered beneath my breath.
‘Yeah.’ Mark chuckled as I began thinking to myself about how much I should tell him. I wondered if I should lie and create an elaborate and entertaining back story for myself, although I decided against it. I wanted to be honest with Mark and so, I let myself speak candidly.
‘Well, I’m from a tiny village just outside of Sheffield, I moved here a couple weeks before I started work, and I’ve been doing that ever since. I’ve had it planned out for a long time.’ I explain and though it wasn’t much, it is the most information I had told anyone in London all at once, in one long breath.
‘That’s it? No family, no heart wrenching stories about your first love, no scandalous secrets?’ I chuckled as Mark complained, watching him list the things that I didn’t have.
‘I have family.’
‘That’s a start, go on.’
‘My dad and older brother left when I was a baby, so, I don’t know them whatsoever. I was left with my mum and grandma, who were both pretty overprotective, so its just me now, well and Rose.’ I mumbled out coldly, speaking on such things as though they weren’t members of my family. I didn’t feel they were anyone, I felt everything from before London was merely fragments of a past life.
‘Rose?’ Mark enquired gently, and he sipped more juice from his glass.
‘My roommate, she dressed me.’ I shrugged, pulling at the loose material of my skirt and the much tighter material of my shirt. The stiffness of the silk garment sticking to my curves like leeches, the cleavage much lower than anything my work clothes showed.
‘I need to buy Rose a thank you present.’
‘Shut up!’ I groaned at him, bringing a single hand down upon his thigh. He mumbled beneath his breath and chuckled at my feeble actions, merely staring at me as I took another gulp of my drink and grew more comfortable in his presence.
‘So, what about you?’
‘Me?’ He quipped, pointing to himself dramatically as I rolled my eyes.
‘Yes!’
‘So, obviously, I’m not from here.’
‘Evidently.’ I said, trailing off in my own accent which was a million times less attractive as his.
‘I can’t tell if that was an accent joke, or an Asian joke?’ Mark squinted his eyes as me as I giggled, slightly taken aback by how warm his sense of humour was. I slowly forgot about my modesty as my figure melted into him, my nerves dissipating almost entirely. My thighs parted enough to let one of Mark’s knees sit between them, the contact kind and not alerting whatsoever.
‘Accent.’ I confirmed through giggles.
‘No, yeah, I’m originally from Vancouver.’ He said, sipping his drink as his accent grew thick and almost as palpable as a third person. Canada, that explained quite a lot, the awkward politeness for a start.
‘Oh, cool.’
‘Yeah, Vancouver until I was eight, and then Queens, in New York from eight until thirteen and then Ontario, Canada until I was eighteen and then, I moved here on my lonesome.’ He listed the places on his fingers, losing eye contact with me to recall all the places he had lived.
‘So, your family is still in Canada?’
‘Yeah, my parents and older brother all live over there, rest of my family is mostly in Korea, I think.’ Mark explained away as a larger picture of his life began to form in my mind. It brought a fuzzy feeling to my stomach, to think about what his childhood had been like. If he was a creative kid who sat indoors scrawling childish drawings over the walls or if he played soccer outside with his dad and brother. The more I thought about it, the wider my smile became and the more I wanted to know.
‘But you’re close?’
‘Oh yeah, don’t see them as much as I would like to but we’re close, we’ve always been really close.’
‘That’s nice.’ I smiled, thinking back to my own parents, the brother I knew nothing about. In a way, I was a bit jealous of Mark, but I also knew that I knew very little about his childhood, certainly not enough to decide whether it warranted jealousy.
‘It is.’ He smiled warmly.
‘What made you decide London?’ I enquired further, wishing to pull all the information I could.
‘Oh, well, I’ve always wanted to live in England, and London is, you know,’ he chuckled, ‘massive. I decided to go to college here after high school, so I studied music for a year and then switched to business. And then, boom, here I am working in stocks.’ Mark chuckled once more, this time dryer.
‘Just like that.’ I repeated, my fingers skimming the top of my glass. Allowing each of his words to sink in deeply.
‘Just like that. What, what about you, why London?’
‘It’s big,’ I laughed at myself, pushing fallen strands of hair from my face as my eyes kept to Mark. Watching him smile at me, his round orbs still as tender as ever. ‘Pretty much the opposite of where I grew up.’
‘You didn’t like it?’ He enquired rather curiously, his expression growing slightly more serious.
‘No, not really.’
‘Why?’
‘I just, grew up very sheltered. I hardly ever left the village,’ I explained, downplaying its actuality, ‘I had very little experience with anything, so, I kind of needed to go out on my own.’
Mark merely nodded along to my words, though eventually his eyes began to wander. Dancing from my features, down my figure until they became entranced on my forearms. Watching how the material of my jacket twisted as I leant to sip from my glass, his eyes unravelling the thing, so he could see what lingered below, if anything were still lingering
‘Mark?’ I called out to him, gazing as his head perked up and eyes returned to mine.
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you, I mean, tell anyone about the,’ I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it. Bring myself to reminisce as though it were a real thing that had happened, still I couldn’t do it. Not even as I sat with Mark at the bar, where I had been laughing and bonding with him.
‘No, no, no one.’ He assured me immediately though I could still see his eyes drawing back to my arms, wheels spinning in his head.
‘You want to ask.’ I stated plainly.
‘No,’ Mark tried to keep his eyes merely upon my face, but I could tell even when he weren’t looking down that he wanted to know, almost needed to. ‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ He insisted.
‘But you’re curious.’
‘A little.’ He said quickly, as though I would scold him for saying such a thing. Instead, I felt myself grow calmer, better about the situation now Mark seemed oddly interested in it.
‘I’ve never really spoken to anyone about it.’ I admitted, chuckling as I did so, as if to lessen the blow.
‘You don’t have to,’ Mark told me quickly, his voice a little louder, hand itching to cradle my arm. I sighed as he spoke, staring down as I placed both my hands in the centre of my lap. ‘I just,’ he sighed, ‘I want to know why? Its been picking at me all week.’
My eyes closed, another sigh bubbling in my throat as he mumbled the words into the air. I wondered if that was the only reason he had asked me out, if I had become but a side show attraction to entertain him. I hoped better of him, I didn’t want him to merely think of me as a broken toy, I wanted him to see me whole, as an equal.
‘Are you here just because of that?’ I mumbled, my question coming out frail and almost inaudible. Head facing the ground before I pushed myself to gently peer up at Mark, my eyes big and longing.
‘What? No,’ Mark answered immediately, voice angrier though it didn’t seem to be directed at me but merely my question. I felt a spur of comfortability lean back into my stomach, my eyes finding it easier to keep contact with him. ‘You intrigue me.’ He blurted.
‘What,’
‘You intrigue me.’ Mark repeated. ‘I sit at my desk and I wonder what’s going on in your head, what you’re thinking about, who you’re thinking about,’
‘Mark,’ I groaned, almost interrupting him although he hurried out the words, seemingly afraid if he stopped speaking that he wouldn’t be able to begin again.
‘I wonder about you all the time, I think about you all the time. I’ve just been too nervous to ask anything, I’m, trying to take that leap.’ He said honestly, looking down as finally he stopped speaking. As my chest pounded from the speeding rate of my heartbeat, I waited for the moment to settle. A thousand thoughts spiralling through my head as I desperately tried to catch the flying words in order to make a coherent sentence. All I could think of that made sense was that he had earned the right to know, as much as I did about why I hurt myself.
I gulped, stomach tensing as I rushed out one singular sentence. ‘I used to cut myself as a punishment.’
‘For what?’ Mark enquired calmly, leaning into me a little more. His denim covered knees prodding my inner thigh.
‘For being me,’ I shrugged, shuffling against his touch, ‘for thinking the way I did, for feeling the things I felt, for looking the way I looked. I punished myself for anything I possibly could.’
‘But?’ Mark added, eyebrows raised. I pondered over how he knew that there was more, that my reasoning had changed over the years. I questioned my features, if my expression had given it away or if Mark was now able to read my mind.
‘It stopped being that when I was about sixteen,’ I continued confessing, the words pouring from me like water seeping into a broken boat. ‘Since then, I, I don’t really know why I do it.’
‘Can I ask something? And you don’t have to answer,’ Mark told me, placing the tips of his fingers on the edge of my knee as he spoke. Nodding at me as though he were a parent warning me against danger, and watching patiently as I in turn, nodded back. ‘If it makes you uncomfortable, throw the Ribena in my face and I will leave, I’ll leave you alone.’ I wanted to beg him never to leave me alone, never.
‘Okay.’ I merely replied, giggling at I spoke.
Mark inhaled deeply, as if he were about to place devastating news upon me. Though instead, he merely asked one, fairly simple question. ‘Do you cut yourself because you get off on it?’
I couldn’t breathe, suddenly it felt like I was floating, my body adrift in the air watching the scene play out from above. I couldn’t speak, my throat was clenched and burning from the immediate thoughts that rolled through my brain. Mark was right in his assumption. I did get off on feeling the pain that harming myself brought. I’d never had anyone else to confide in, any other way to express it. Cutting myself worked, it was swift relief, and I didn’t have to tell anyone about it then. I merely convinced myself I was being punished instead of being gifted the pain I received. Mark was right, and I had no clue how he was right. For the first time since arriving in London, I felt entirely outsmarted, confused about feelings I thought I had figured out years ago. I now understood, I knew nothing about my own sexuality, my own being. I hadn’t known it had been the pain I got off on, I hadn’t known there was any other way to receive pain sexually if you weren’t inflicting on yourself. And now, someone who seemed to know that perfectly sat in front of me, and I couldn’t find my voice.
‘Let me, let me reword that,’ Mark continued after a few moments of silence, ‘do you, cut yourself because you get off on pain? Is it, that, doing that is the only way you’ve ever known to deal with it?’ Right again.
I simply nodded, still too nervous to speak although I rutted up the courage to give him a sort of response. Mark began to nod along with me as he mumbled an okay beneath his breath.
‘How did you?’ I stifled out, my curiosity getting the better of me.
‘The search history, the, well, you seemed confused about it. I tried to put two and two together.’
‘You’re not confused?’ I questioned, trying to relieve my nerves with a stiff, awkward chuckle. It bellowed into the air dry as I waited for Mark to respond, sipping my drink to soothe my throat.
‘A little, but not as much as you.’ He smiled innocently, calming my anxiousness more than my drink seemed to.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered through more chuckles, another question pouring out on the end of my laughter, ‘so, do you, as well?’ I couldn’t bare to make myself say it. Hey, do you also get off on being hurt? It sounded ridiculous and I could understand why it had taken Mark so long to ask. Though if he felt similarly, it would make sense for him to be so knowledgeable about the topic.
‘No, I,’ Mark cut himself off, though his eyes still held the glimmer of something he wanted to say. I wondered what could be so bad, worse than what I had just admitted to him. My stomach tightened as he fell to silence before beginning once more, ‘I’m normal.’
‘Normal.’ I repeated, slightly offended.
‘I didn’t mean, like that.’
‘I know,’ I said whilst smiling, ‘you’re just a wimp, what do people say? Um, vanilla, that’s it.’
Mark laughed at my words, his eyes closing as he leant his head back. When he returned to glance at me, his eyes seemed darker, pupils dilated. His head careening upward, almost cocking to the side. ‘That’s probably it.’
‘Well, as long as it’s not pee.’ I mumbled.
‘No, no,’ Mark laughed harder, more genuine this time, his voice cracking as he giggled. ‘Nothing like that.’
I merely watched him giggle until my eyes latched upon the dark sky outside, and the completely empty bar, my nerves returning. ‘It’s getting pretty late.’
‘Okay, c’mon,’ Mark pulled away from his stool suddenly, the heat from his covered legs disappearing from underneath my skirt. A groan threatened to pass my lips as Mark stood tall above my seated figure. I waited for a moment and then followed him, expecting a goodbye to slip through his mouth, instead, he added on to what he had previously said, ‘I’ll walk you home.’
We wandered through the same streets we had walked upon when Mark had first picked me up. Although now, they were completely barren of any people, and the street lights seemed dim in comparison to the brightness of the moon. The two of us giggled along to awful jokes, and fleeting recollections of childhood memories, as I tried my best to think of good occasions from my childhood. I puzzled if he would bring up the topic of masochism again, since he now knew that was what I was as now, I did too. But it seemed he wouldn’t and the closer we walked to my flat, the more disappointed I felt that he hadn’t questioned me on it further. A boil of tension unravelled in my loin, a tension that seemed it was going to stay a long while.
I stood on my doorstep once more, facing outward as Mark slowly stopped chuckling from a joke he himself had muttered five minutes prior.
‘Thank you for tonight, I had a really good time, a really, really nice time.’ I muttered through a wide smile, and rosy, aching cheeks. My cold fingers unhooking my hair from my mouth as Mark finally stopped giggling.
‘Me too.’ He grinned. ‘We should, we should do this again some time.’ I felt my chest burst at his words.
‘Definitely.’
‘I’ll see you at work on Monday?’ Mark asked uselessly, as if he were merely saying things, so he had an excuse to stay for a moment longer. My hands knotted together through jumbled fingers, my smile beaming out into the darkness of my street.
‘Of course.’ I giggled girlishly.
‘Okay, um, goodnight.’ He finally said, standing motionless but turning a fragment from me. I figured he was likely waiting until I had gone in safely but realising I had to be the one to walk away was aggravatingly painful.
‘Night.’ I mewled before turning to walk back into my flat, before saying goodbye to Mark properly. It felt like something was missing in my stomach, something that was hooked upon him like an anchor. As I unlocked my house and heard the slow footsteps of Mark wandering away, I spun on my heels and headed back toward him.
As I stood on my tip toes, I pursed my lips and pressed them to the supple complexion of Mark’s cheek. My kiss soothing out against his skin, lingering for a brief moment before I stepped back and smiled at him. Mark seemed slightly taken aback, his mouth hanging open a little, merely watching me as I began to wander from him again. Though I only got two steps before I felt a grip tense over my wounded forearm, tight enough to make me wince with pain. I stared back at Mark, allowing him to pull me closer, my chest nearly colliding with his.
We were closer than we had ever been, so close I could feel every breath he took, every hair on my body standing to attention. I knew when he looked at me that we would kiss; I may have been naïve, but I wasn’t that naïve. I wanted to grin, giddy about it but my mind clouded over with intense want for him, deep, carnal want. Mark waited until I melted into him and then lifted his hand from his own side, pressing it to my jaw. His fingertips cold from the weather, but slickly warm in their own way, as if they were dancing over my skin while remaining stationary. This close, I could see every detail of his features, the way both his eyes were hooded and covered by double eyelids but still somehow shined brighter than any star I’d ever seen. The way his shoulders seemed broader up close, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. The way his nose had a slight bump in the bridge, his lips shining when his tongue dipped out to moisten them. I felt as though I would explode if he didn’t kiss me, and so I leant in a fragment, and waited for him to pull me the rest of the way.
Our noses touched first, his head tilting so he could consume my lips with his kiss. I not only felt it on my mouth, but on my whole body. In my thighs, in my fingertips, in the depths of my heat. My hands reached out and clasped a hold of his waist to steady myself, while Mark moved his face with his grip on my jaw. His kiss was sickeningly sweet, the tastes of Ribena and what seemed to be watermelon dancing around his mouth and subsequently mine as he dipped his tongue inward. The muscle tenderly brushing over mine, as Mark brought his other hand up to the opposite side of my face, fingertips spreading out against the flushed skin. It was when his left hand came up to hold my face that his right hand disappeared from it, the weight of his touch removing itself. Though by then, I was so entirely entranced in his kiss that all my senses had rushed to where he touched and seemingly nowhere else.
His fingers reappeared lower, skimming across the tender flesh of my outer thigh, his digits running upward. The cool air of the London street grew to feel like a sauna, my body pressed into Mark as his touch on my thigh grew to be too much. My chest bucked up into his, the tense muscles beneath his jumper flush against my breasts. All the while, his left hand continued to soothe my cheek as though he were telling me to stay calm. I couldn’t stay calm when his fingers were almost touching my underwear, my skirt riled up in the street as I kissed the most beautiful man. As my chest rose up and down violently, I felt something cold press to my ass. At first I considered it could have been merely his fingers, but it was painfully obvious after a moment that they were his keys. He had them gripped so the tip of one was pressed to my flesh, and suddenly, he was pushing down. My mouth opened against Mark, his lips pulled into a smirk that I could feel upon my chin. As a moan fluttered from my mouth, Mark continued dotting kisses over the skin of pink cheeks and a low jaw, while slowly, he pushed his keys deeper into my skin.
I felt the skin tear as the metal broke it, my flesh burning as Mark placed his mouth over mine once more. Swallowing the pathetic mewl that trailed up my throat and down his. I could still feel his smile on me, caused by the relief he was also feeling at the rush of pain I was experiencing. As I breathed deeply, Mark removed his hand from my cheek and placed it on my hip. Moving my waist into the pressure he applied over the skin on my ass, and then back into his own hips. He repeated the actions numerous times, amid his lips smothering mine, the wet flesh of his mouth like the most intoxicating of alcohols. The pain began to throb and the mix of warmth I felt from his lips on me, and our noses brushing one another made a beating begin in my loin. Moving downward until I could feel it throb in my core, moans harbouring in my throat as Mark slid the key across my skin once more. This was what I had done to myself, only now, I received warmth and comfort from it too. I felt a rush of affection stir with the pain until it concocted a mellow of euphoria, the tension in my stomach unravelling all at once.
After Mark made his fifth cut with the key, he removed it from my skin. Lips pulling back from my mouth as well, leaving me desperately untouched. He pulled my skirt back into place, both hands moving back up to my cheeks. I could feel drops of blood dashing down the backs of my thighs, staining the yellow socks that clad my legs. The sensation made me smile, watching as Mark mirrored my expression. His mouth pressing to mine one more time, a brief, genial peck that made butterflies float to my stomach. I giggled as Mark released my cheeks and pulled back from me entirely.
‘I’ll see you on Monday.’ He whispered as he had a few minutes ago only this time, it felt completely different, definite, threatening almost. His words only widened my grin as I watched him wander from my street and disappear around the corner, leaving me alone with all the sensations I had just experienced. All the things I was now assuming. That even if he didn’t know it, Mark happened to be just like me and somehow simultaneously the opposite. A sadist.
Things had happened quickly after that. Moving in was entirely too painless, so easy that I expected a natural disaster to sweep the capital to punish me. But it hadn’t, nothing happened. No natural disaster or police showing up at the house to haul me back to my home town, in fact things actually got better. After my first night in my new flat with my new roommate, I awoke to the realisation that my job interview was in three hours. And even weeks after, I remembered the interview vividly. Each time I began my commute to work, my mind hauled back each detail of the meeting, every word I had muttered that grey morning. My own mind critiquing itself endlessly as I boarded the subway and found myself staring up at the larger than life building that I now worked in.
After an awkwardly uneventful interview, I waited two weeks for a phone call from the stock company. It had been painful, like staring at a splinter knowing that you would have to pull it out. I needed an answer, even if it was bad news. I spent days on the sofa with Rose, biting away at my nails, watching my mobile for any activity. Until finally, late on a Tuesday, the call came. I expected it to be a let-down, for a sorrowful older man to let me know that I was too young, too inexperienced for the job but in some sort of backward event, it hadn’t been unfortunate news. Instead the male voice on the other end told me that I had been given the place, that I had the proper equipment to handle it, that I had the job. My stomach had filled with bubbles, and nerves and so much excitement I could barely contain myself.
Each day on the train, on the courtyard of the business park, I try to remind myself of that phone call. When I feel the doubt begin to crawl over my skin like a litter of ants, I recall that I was able to do this job, that in fact, I was particularly overqualified as the man had put it. I could do this, I had been doing this for nearly a month now. Though somewhere, I still felt incapable, or subdued in some way. As if I would be pulled from this reality altogether and placed back in my more familial, dull setting. I’d tried not to think of home whatsoever, but thoughts sometimes seeped in, leaking through in the memories of home that I cherished. Each thought that dribbled through brought a sick feeling to my stomach and reminded me that I would always carry some of my old, pained tendencies.
I had only cut myself a few times since leaving home and by now the wounds that I did inflict were shallow and harmless. Luckily I had an abundance of long sleeves to cover them and so, no one was any the wiser. Aside Rose, who had figured it out within a few days of my arrival. I felt exposed to her in a way I only ever had with my mother or grandmother, something about sharing the same living space. Though it was peaceful with Rose, a sweet vulnerability that felt equal. It was my second day that she confessed her dreaded “secret” to me. Whilst sitting together on the sofa, I had seen the edge of the stuffing in her bra and though it was obvious I had seen, I felt too afraid to mention it. Later, after an awkward silence, Rose explained that she was born as a boy. I’m not sure I ever would have known, she seemed as feminine as I was, maybe even a little more but I could tell that me knowing made her feel better. I nodded along as she explained how she had known that she was different, how her parents didn’t approve but thankfully, her distant uncle had. That night, she flooded out all her emotions onto me and however overwhelmed I felt, I understood.
Something about having a roommate made me feel better around people, more enthusiastic, confident. Rose had told me that going in assertive was much better than appearing timid and allowing yourself to be torn to shreds. That advice seemed to help in my work place that was male dominated and barely had anyone younger than twenty-five. It was imperative that I remained level headed and completely in control of my work in the office and I had been able to keep up with that in my first few weeks. Each day keeping to a strict schedule and finishing the admin work that was piled on my desk stall when I arrived in the morning. As I threw my bag down that day, it was no different, in fact, the pile was even larger.
Most of my days were full of work and busyness and through that busyness, I had barely gotten to know any of my co-workers. Not that I minded entirely as most of them were old enough to be my parents and over half of them happened to be senior men. Though I barely had time to dwindle on that fact, my head crammed with statistics and data that needed to be typed up and handed back to my boss in time for him to pass it onto his bosses. It was tedious work, adding up logistical stocks and predicting sales for the coming weeks and yet it took up hours. By the time I had typed and printed the needed papers, I had only a couple hours left of work that no doubt, would be filled by another task my boss would set. As I huffed to myself, I watched a co-worker walk through the aisle that separated some of the stalls. The muffled steps that crunched over the dull carpet, the rubbing of suit trousers that travelled to me in waves. Out of trepidation and a desperate need not to interact with my heavy-handed boss, I called out to the person as their face came into view.
‘Mark,’ I said quite loudly, the first time his name had passed through my lips. It caught him off guard, his doe eyes widening as he turned to me. His face peeking over the walls of my desk stall, his arms cradling the velvet shield and he peered at me, waiting.
I’d only interacted with him once before, on my first day in the office. Another one of my co-workers, an older woman had introduced me to everyone on the fifth floor, she had made a point of mentioning that there was one other person around my age, only one. She whisked me up and down the aisles, pointing to unremarkable faces in the blurred crowd of the workspace, expecting me to remember facts she listed off about the faces. I did my best but after a while, everyone faded into one. Except someone who was entirely different.
Mark sat on the end of the aisle, four stalls away from where I would eventually work. The woman guiding me around motioned over to him as we reached his desk, her stature leaning against the wall of the stall and leaving me to awkwardly stand beside her. He only looked up as the woman began talking, her voice coarse as it surrounded the office, though as I looked to Mark, sound became muffled. I was taken back by how young he looked, how, familiar yet different. His features were delicate, soft, oddly shaped and yet confidently beautiful. Golden skin and ivory hair shining in the harsh office lighting, and as his eyes gleamed up at me, my chest burnt. My eyes kept tracing over his features, trying to grasp what is was that had enabled me so, enamoured, but I couldn’t understand it. The woman continued to ramble away, Mark glancing between me and her as he politely smiled. I waited until the woman went quiet, and as she finally told me the name of the boy, I listened.
‘And this, is Mark.’ She said, her voice silencing after his name. I smiled at him, lips pulled tight as I tried my best to appear gallant, my mind ablaze.
‘Hi,’ he mumbled, his voice low, deeper than I would have imagined his gentle face to own. He also owned a different accent to anyone else in the office, though I was unsure it was American, Canadian, or some kind of European. I continued smiling helplessly until I realised that I too should introduce myself.
‘Oh, I’m Ellie, hi.’ I reached my hand out, my fingers shaking slightly before Mark clasp them between his. A pulse ran through my stomach, his tanned skin contrasting over my dull complexion, his slender fingers consuming mine. It seemed to go on too long and after a while, the woman beside me choked out a cough and Mark let my hand drop back to my side.
‘Looks like Mark isn’t the baby of the office anymore then.’ Another male voiced called out from down the column of desks, a stifled chuckle following from the woman. Mark merely smiled and peered down, slightly embarrassed but somehow pleased, though I was unsure why.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He mumbled as he stared at the ground.
‘Only just.’ The woman added as another identical chuckle came from the man who originally spoke. Mark glanced up, his lips still pulled into a smile, his eyes softer than before and fixated entirely on me.
‘How old are you then?’
‘Um, nineteen.’ I almost stammered, his gaze thick and palpable through its warmth.
‘Ah, yeah, just a couple years younger. You get used to the babying, its actually kinda nice sometimes.’ He spoke, his accent strong yet still hard to place.
‘Not gonna baby you anymore though, we have a new office kid.’ The woman chuckled as she began to walk away from Mark’s desk. My chest began burning again, I didn’t want to leave my spot, I didn’t want to leave the conversation with Mark.
She continued walking, leaving me no choice but to follow. My footsteps slow and purposeful as Mark called out to me once more.
‘It was nice to meet you.’
‘Likewise, I’ll, see you around.’ I muttered back to him, his eyes still following me as I turned to wander through the aisle away from him.
Though we hadn’t interacted since then, there was no anxiety that came from calling out to Mark in the quiet chaos of the office. There were no worries about whether he would be rude, or merely ignore me for I’d never seen him be anything but cordial. As he leant against the stall wall, he smiled, button like cheeks balling up until the grin met his eyes. My stomach churned as I became hyper aware that I still hadn’t spoken.
‘Oh, could you pass these papers onto Gregory,’ I muttered, lifting the stack of printer paper from the table, extending my hand over to Mark. They were heavy, thick with ink and logistical mumble, and yet Mark hitched a hand above the velvet wall and took them from me with no problems. I’d expected him to be a little weaker than he actually was, due to how thin and gangly his frame seemed underneath his casual suit. Although, I needed to understand that appearances were sometimes deceiving.
‘Sure,’ Mark mumbled in return, glancing down to the papers and grinning to himself as he stepped forward. His figure looming in front of my eyes, my papers pressing to his chest as he caught my gaze once more. ‘You scared of him?’ He asked.
I chuckled in defence, ‘No, I um, a little. It’s not that he makes me uncomfortable, its just the whole boss thing, kinda scares me.’
‘It’s cool, I was like that my first few months. You get used to it.’ Mark nodded as he spoke, the coil of anxiety in my stomach loosening until I could barely feel it anymore. His low voice eased something out in me I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem,’ he said, beginning to wander from my desk and toward the office that housed our boss. ‘And Ellie,’ he called back.
‘Yeah.’
‘This,’ he motioned to the papers, ‘is really good.’
‘Thanks.’ I grinned, my lips parting as my goofy smile pummelled through my mouth. Mark smiled in return and began to wander off again, disappearing through the door of the office until I could no longer see him.
Work had concluded for the day and I was entirely prepared to lie down on the sofa with Rose and watch whatever movies she suggested. However, after my long journey home from the skyscraper I worked in, I noticed a car parked outside our house. And as I unlocked the door and began wandering up the stairs, I could hear faint snippets of conversation and giggles. Through heavy, tired breathes I lifted my body up the stairs and opened the door to see Rose with a friend. She was smiling like I’d never seen her do so before, her eyes alighted by the company of this person, this man. I could see why, he was gorgeous and as they turned to greet me I could see his face a little better. It was kind, his features sharp and striking but his smile warm. I ambled over to the two people and placed myself in the sofa chair across from them, grinning as I did so.
‘Hi,’ the man said, almost standing up as he reached to shake my hand.
‘Hey.’
‘This is Andy,’ Rose muttered from her place on the couch, smiling widely as she nearly leaned into his side. I could see the obvious infatuation scrawled across her face while the two interacted, as she spoke.
‘It’s nice to meet you.’ I said politely, pulling my work jacket from my back and tugging my long sleeves back into their place. Strands of my pulled back hair dripping across my forehead, my head shaking to rearrange my bangs.
‘Likewise, Rose has told me so much about you.’ He muttered in a fraudulent tone, not that I minded as it was a rather sweet lie. I doubted Rose had said anything about me, beyond that I lived here. Roommates weren’t something you mentioned when trying to sleep with someone, even I knew that. I stifled a chuckle and merely decided to nod along to his lie.
‘So, me and Andy were planning to go to this club tonight, and I figured, maybe you should come along?’ Rose asked carefully, never directly handing it to me as a question and I knew why. I had been living in London for around a month now and I hadn’t explored anything other than work and home. Rose had been trying to pry me from the house on some nights, attempting to drag me along to late night raves that she enjoyed but I couldn’t muster the courage. I figured she’d give up, especially on nights like this when I was visibly tired but the fact that she was still trying brought out a confidence in me. Though my stomach twisted, I nodded.
‘Sure, when?’
‘Well, if you get dressed, we can go.’ Rose muttered happily, her smile pressing up into her eyes.
‘Oh, right, yeah.’ I smiled at Andy, wordlessly excusing myself to prepare for the night ahead. My feet trudging against the wooden floor as I pulled myself into my bedroom. I waited for a moment before sitting down, feet outstretching until they almost met the opposing wall. I heaved heavy breathes and began rooting for something to wear, anything that wasn’t work clothes. The breezy material of the shirt felt uncomfortable and though it was beautiful, I felt too open in it. I continued huffing to myself as I pulled on some jeans and hid my arms underneath a thick jacket. When Rose had told me to get ready, I hadn’t understood if she meant look good or merely change my outfit. As I inched my way back into the living room, afraid I would interrupt an intimate moment, Rose gleamed over at me. Smiling while she inspected my figure and stood up, hauling Andy along with her.
‘Come on then.’ Rose ordered the two people who joined her, my body trailing behind the couple as we left the apartment.
It felt different being out on the London streets after work, when the sky had faltered entirely black and stars lit up the roads along with the street lights. I listened as laughter poured out of bars and open windows, and the warmth of the night brightened with every step. I should’ve allowed Rose to convince me out a long time ago, I’d never felt so home, so alive. I found myself grinning as I followed behind Rose and Andy, watching as he held her hand in his. Fingers sweeping over the back of her palm, cooing her as they almost skipped through the streets. A deep warmth came to my chest, not jealousy or want but thankfulness, that someone was caring for Rose in that way. That she was happy with someone.
We continued along the road for a while, twisting as the streets curved and led us far from our home. My feet began to ache in the heels I had foolishly chosen to wear but thankfully, Rose stopped soon after the pain began. Her body halted outside a club, light seeping from the outside door along with strings of music and chatter. I felt nervous once more, my arms wrapping around my chest and I passively followed Rose and Andy. I worried that I wouldn’t be allowed in due to my anxious expression or the looming baby fat that lingered on my cheeks. I shuffled closer to Rose, almost grabbing onto her like a scared baby did to its mother. She chuckled, leaning behind herself and taking me by the hand.
‘C’mon dumpling.’ She mumbled to soothe me and as the three of us passed the security guard and hauled ourselves into the club, it began to work.
I had never been in a pub let alone a club, like a proper grown up one. I expected to see people passed out, sprawled over couches, bags of drugs scattered across the floor, men fighting in the corner. Though I soon realised, it wasn’t as explicit as my mother had warned me, in fact, the atmosphere was more akin to a school disco. As I watched the floor and pushed myself further into the club, I became more comfortable. Rose still held my hand, Andy walking beside us as she hauled me onto the dance floor. It was difficult to move at first, awkward as their were so many sweaty bodies pushing together, skin touching accidentally. I worried I would bump someone and be attacked though that thought calmed when Rose began dancing along to the techno music. Her hips swaying, arms knocking people who didn’t seem to care one fragment. Andy leant in and whispered something, a mumble about grabbing drinks before he disappeared through the crowd.
Rose took a hold of my other hand, lifting my arms as she swung them back and forth to the beat of the music. I giggled, following her movements, my cheeks aching from the wide grin. Through the guide of Rose, I began to let my body sway to the sound filling the club, my eyes closing and feet tapping against the floor. I couldn’t dance, I had never been able to but in this packed club where the music danced as though it were alive, it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did; not work, not my hometown, not my mother, nothing except being free. For the first time in a very long time, I felt good about myself, I felt like I was glowing, shining on the inside.
I heard my own giggles glimmer into the air, my eyes opening as my body continued to move. I watched Rose move, her figure gliding beautifully as she became lost in the atmosphere. We danced a little more until Andy waved us over to the bar, Rose pulling me through the crowds until we reached him. He stood by three drinks in small glasses, one of them empty as I supposed he had already had his own. Rose grinned at him and grabbed one of the glasses, heaping the clear fluid down her throat in a single pained gulp. My stomach tingled from the mere sight of the liquid, but I knew drinking was part in parcel with clubs. My shaky fingers grasped the little container and my lips cradled it. The alcohol spewing down my throat as I careened my head back. It burnt, like cutting myself did, in a familiar, kind way, it was good, and my stomach began to churn.
‘Could I have another?’ I asked, my eyes flitting between the couple. Andy chuckled and nodded, leaning over to order the drink from the bartender. We waited a moment before three more drinks lined the bar, and this time I was the first to reach for mine. I sipped it slowly, allowing the burn to simmer out in my throat, spreading over the internal flesh. I groaned as I placed the glass back on the table, my lips wet from the fluid, cheeks flushed from the sudden wash of alcohol in my blood. I felt an urge to request another but figured it was best to let the two I’d already consumed settle.
‘First time drinking?’ Andy asked.
‘Uh-huh, I’ve never been in a club either, I, I love it. This is so great, thank you, Rose.’ I mumbled, leaning over and pulling my roommate into an awkward half hug.
‘It’s fine sweetie, you want to try a different drink, maybe something slightly, nicer?’ She proposed.
‘Okay.’ I grinned, watching as Rose leant over the bar and shouted over to the muscly bartender.
‘Two double sex on the beaches, please.’ She smiled; her lips outstretched perfectly as the bartender began to blush. I chuckled to myself, Andy placing his palm flat against her back. I felt my mouth widen as I stifled another chuckle down my throat, my hands flat on the bar and I pulled myself to sit on a stool. After a moment, two larger glasses were placed on the bar near us, a darker liquid filling the cups. It looked like any other fizzy drink I had seen and so, I lifted it from the table and began drinking. A wave of bitterness hit my tongue, scorching its way down my throat and sitting, still hot, in my tummy. I visibly winced and I continued to sip.
‘Slowly.’ Rose laughed, taking a sip from her own drink and allowing Andy to have some. I tried to do as she said but it didn’t seem as filling that way though I understood some people drank for the taste. I kept the straw in my mouth, continuously sipping as Rose grew bored of her drink rather quickly. Dipping her head nearer Andy, placing her forehead in the crook of his neck. I watched the two cuddle for a while before it seemed they were both ready to go back to dancing. Me, however, I was too entranced by the foreign warmth that bubbled in my stomach, a pleasurable dizziness coming over my head. The more I drank, the better it felt.
‘We’re going to go dance, you coming?’ Rose asked abruptly, her voice low and coarse.
‘No, I’m okay, I’ll come over in a minute.’ I muttered as the couple began wandering from me and my place at the bar. Their figures dipping between the crowd before they dissipated from my view altogether, leaving me entirely alone, sipping my drink as the music drowned out everything else. My feet tapped to the beat still, dipping against the metal frame of the chair, my throat stiff and aching from the heat of the alcohol.
As I continued to inhale the liquid through the thinness of the straw, I came to realise a few moments later than I’d drunk the entirety of it. I sighed to myself before my eyes loomed over the drink that Rose had abandoned, still sitting with me. I tried to locate the couple on the dance floor, but I couldn’t see them through the piles of people. My fingers tapped upon the bar for a second before I grasped the other glass as I had done with my own. This time gulping the fluid rather quickly and feeling as my stomach churned angrily in response.
I continued sitting by myself, soothing the drink into my mouth and watching over the dense crowd of people. By now, I probably should have joined my friends, but I didn’t want to interrupt the fun they were having together and so, I sat motionless. Every minute that passed was full of certainty that I was going to move but I never did until I was approached by another girl. Her frame passed over from the other side of the bar, short figure coming into view as she stood before me. At first, I expected her to ask if we had met before, that she had merely mistaken me for an old friend. Instead, she merely smiled, grinning until her sweet smile grew gummy. Her short hair barely touched her shoulders, dark eyes still somehow bright in the deep mellow of the club. And though I didn’t know her, I felt myself smile in response to hers.
‘Do you want to dance?’ She asked, leaning in to shout nearer my ear though I could hear her perfectly well. My smile grew with her question, my heart beating violently, and I called back in response.
‘Sure.’
Her eyes grew smaller as her smile widened, her hand reaching out and grabbing mine as she pulled me from the bar. I wondered if this was usual in clubs like this, people making friends, dancing with strangers. I wondered if perhaps she still thought I was a friend, that this was still an accident. Her flushed cheeks brightened underneath the strobe lights, our bodies pushing onto the dance floor as she guided me through the crowd. Her fingers intertwined with mine, the cool complexion of her skin shining even though my vision was clouded from alcohol.
She danced first. Lifting my hand up with hers as she placed her other palm on the crook of my waist. I felt shivers run down my spine, her pull tugging me in closer until our chests touched. She swayed her head to the tune of the music while I began to do the same, keeping my eyes open so I could watch her dance. I could feel her heartbeat through the connection of our chests, I could taste her breath on my tongue. She let go of my hand and placed her now free hand with her other on my waist, her thigh between my legs. I could feel her near me, so close that it burnt to breathe. My empty hands clasp onto her shoulders, holding them as we danced in sync, our bodies moulding into one. I felt myself linger into her, my longer hair brushing against her cheeks as she dipped her head near my neck. Every gasp she exhaled felt like razors on my skin, so palpable that I could see them like the shapes of daggers. My heartbeat sped up as she glanced up at me, her shorter frame standing below mine. A hand lifted from my waist, flat palm gliding out over my jaw before she pulled my mouth onto hers.
I had never kissed a girl before, in fact, I had only ever kissed two people, both boys who I had known. This was entirely different, not only was she a girl, she was a complete stranger. Though I worried about it later, in the moment, I was too caught up in the kiss. How she felt, how she tasted, how soft her hold on my cheek was. My stomach grew tight as she continued to kiss me, her tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth. Darting around until she had felt every inch of private skin and soaked up the fragments of my drink that were left behind. It was only after we had run out of breath that she pulled back. I watched her blushed expression, lips moist from the kiss, though I figured my expression was more desperate, shocked, needy, flushed.
‘I’m Ellie.’ I mumbled loudly before realising that might have been the wrong thing to do. I didn’t know whether people would introduce themselves after kissing in a club or if they merely forgot about each other entirely the day after.
She chuckled, soothing my waist with her thumb before she finally spoke. ‘I’m Katy.’ And then she leaned in again and pressed her lips against mine. Her thigh flexing between my legs until I could feel her near my heat, my chest burning. I felt nervous, like a schoolgirl seeing their crush wander the hallways though I knew nothing about her. Katy lifted her hand and tucked stray hairs behind my ears, her mouth drifting off my lips, pecking small kisses on my jaw and neck. She travelled over every accessible piece of skin before returning to my lips and staying there for a while.
I could have gone home with Katy, I could have invited her back to the flat but instead, I said goodbye and left with Rose and Andy. We didn’t exchange phone numbers or anything, I merely left, and she merely disappeared like she had never really been there. But I knew she had been and that was enough. Beside, Rose had told me that I was far too drunk to go anywhere with anyone with that in mind. So I let Andy and Rose haul me back to the flat, my feet burning from the pain they were in, my lips still swollen from the kiss. My limbs felt weak, turned to jelly from the liquid I had consumed, liquid that suddenly seemed to take effect. I mumbled all the way home, uttering incoherent words to myself until I was back in the shelter of my flat.
Andy, who had been supporting my weight all the way home handed my droopy figure over to Rose. Her knees nearly buckled underneath my body, her arm underneath my armpit, her grip awkward and painful.
‘You can go to my room,’ Rose mumbled toward Andy and though I was almost blackout drunk, I knew what she meant instantly. ‘I’ll just put Lindsey Lohan to bed and then I’ll be right in.’
I groaned in response to her words while Andy merely chuckled and proceeded to follow them. His footsteps muffled and figure disappearing into the other bedroom as Rose lead me into my own. She placed my tired form down on my bed, grip disappearing from my body while she pulled the heels from my feet. I almost moaned in relief when the shoes hit the ground, Rose giggling as she pulled a blanket atop my body. Wrapping it around me to make sure I wouldn’t be cold and placing my figure in a way I wouldn’t find uncomfortable. I felt more cared for in that moment that I had with my own mother over the course of nineteen years.
‘Thank you.’ I drunkenly mumbled, my eyes already closed, sleep beginning to consume me.
‘You’re welcome, sleep well chicken.’ She said in return, leaning over my body to place a kiss on my forehead. I felt her lips press to my skin and then disappear altogether, her presence leaking from the room like the light of a candle. Though by then, my mind had fogged over into unconsciousness and I couldn’t see anything but darkening sleep.
The next noise I heard was swaddled from me, hidden behind the wall that separated the two bedrooms belonging to the flat. And then another similar noise sept in and it became clearer what that noise was. My aching eyes fluttered open, cold, icy orbs searching the room before I recalled being placed in there. More noises followed, my body sitting up as the sleep shook itself from my muscles. My balled fists came up to my eyes to rub the tiredness from them, my vision growing clearer as I looked around and realised it was still night. I huffed to myself, I had work tomorrow and now I had to sleep through the groans flowing from Rose and Andy. I waited for a while, hoping that they would finish and fall asleep as I was wanting to do but instead, it seemed they merely continued on and on. I burrowed my head beneath my pillow, plugged my ears with my fingers but nothing seemed to muffle it into obscurity. In fact, it appeared the more I tried to ignore it, the louder it became.
My exasperated groans joined in on the harmony of moaning and eventually it became so loud, it was near deafening. I found myself listening, head perking up from the safety of my pillow, ear nearing the wall. Rose still sounded entirely feminine, though most of the noise was coming from Andy who let out what almost sounded like growls. The more I listened, the more I was reminded of the nights I spent at home, watching those images on my phone. Watching foreign bodies make love until they appeared no more than living carcasses. I felt sick. My stomach tense, almost making me retch. I tossed myself over my bed and dug through a draw, pulling a blade I had hidden from Rose and myself. I hadn’t used it before, in fact, I had only bought it recently just in case I needed to and that night, I needed to.
I felt my eyes scrunch up at the noises, my throat burning, chest on fire from how nauseous I felt. With my eyes still closed, I pushed my blade down onto the inside of my forearm. Pushing down until it hurt a little too much and then moving onto to a different spot and continuing the pattern. It didn’t seem to help, not even the pain did. The more I pushed down on my skin, the worse I felt and that had never happened before. I began panicking, perhaps I had done it so much I was now immune. I wasn’t sure how I would find relief in anything but doing that, I couldn’t possibly mix this sort of thing with sex. Not only did I not have the energy to cut myself every time I felt like getting off, it felt wrong, gross to mix self-harm and pleasure like that. I bevelled the blade down on my skin once more to ensure that I was correct and low and beyond, it seemed I was. It didn’t feel good, it just burnt and stung like a deep wound was supposed to.
Through stifled breathes, I threw the blade back into the drawer and laid back down on my bed. I watched the shapes carved into the ceiling, my head dizzy from lingering alcohol and the fresh cuts dancing over my forearm. The only thing to keep me company was the moans that continuously poured through the paper-thin wall, other than that, I was completely alone. Tears began to drip down my temples where Rose had kissed, choked breaths exhaling from my lips, where Katy had kissed. I felt that had been ruined now, that kissing anyone would be tainted by that thing that was missing, the pain that I would need to enjoy it.
IMPORTANT: This is the prologue for my newest fanfiction and is an introductory to the main character and the themes of this story. It involves sex, bdsm, self harm and themes relating to that matter. It will also not just be sex, but have an actual story and characters falling in love. If any of this is not for you, my other works are much lighter and less “plotty”. I really hope this excites you for the rest of the story, I am very much proud of it. Thank you! - Maisie ♡
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
I was sixteen when I chose to leave home without even whispering a word to anyone. Sixteen when I decided I had to go out alone into the world, to make my own way with the little experience I had gathered so far. It took a long time to map out my plan, endless days that turned into sleepless nights. I spent most of my last teenage years memorising a singular night, a night that would lead me into the next stage of my life.
My dusty countryside town was a few hours from the monumental London. I thought about the city all hours of the day, the faraway land that was London. The idea of even stepping foot in it was weird and foreign and still, it was the only place I ever wanted to go. I’d lived in one place for my entire life and rarely ever left the town, in fact I’d only left it a few times. All because of hospital trips. The idea of living away from that place was terrifying and yet, completely exhilarating. Given that back then, I’d been pretty naive to how the world works as I’d never been told of it. I wanted a nice house, nice job, maybe I would meet a nice person and we would have a nice relationship. I had come to learn as my research into London and life in general continued that it wouldn’t be that simple. Everything was complicated. If you wanted a place to live, there was several thousand procedures you had to endure. If you wanted a job, you had to have a thousand different qualifications. I thought after realising all this that my hopes of leaving were over, that was when I had begun thoroughly planning.
Through school and college I was able to obtain the qualifications I needed to move away and work in business. I knew I would have to work for a few years before I gained any sort of fulfilling job, but I had endured years of education, I understood patience. Through research I had found a small flat that I would be able to pay for with money I’d saved over the years and earnings from a job I would later procure. Life would still be difficult, I knew this. I was a young, inexperienced girl moving out to a tumultuous city, it would be dangerous. Though I had concluded long ago that dying in this new fantastical place was far better than peddling on back home, where I would die unknown, just another body in the wet dirt underneath the town church.
I knew by leaving that I was inflicting an unimaginable amount of pain upon my mother, who was as neurotic as she was suffocating. Though I understood she didn’t mean to be, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sympathy for her. My father ran, as did my older brother, leaving me and my ailing grandmother the only people she had left. I wasn’t old enough to understand why my father had just abandoned us but once I grew enough to comprehend love, pain, divorce, I got it. This town was the entire world for my mother but as I got older, she realised it wouldn’t be for me. Instead it would be a restraint.
The first time I recall my mother knowing I would be difficult is when I was eleven. I developed much quicker than most children my own age, breasts already sprouting on my chest, hair spreading over my body. There was a huge wave of name calling, little jabs at my appearance, and while I tried to ignore it, eventually it burrowed beneath my skin. That was the same year I cut myself for the first time. My fingers coiled around a pair of scissors, pressing the metal over the flesh of my arm until a litter of red scratches appeared over the pale skin. Back then, it was just a punishment, a way of controlling myself from completely losing my mind. I stopped it for a while. In natures due course, the other girls grew into their bodies and I was planted back into an unremarkable place among my peers. There was no bullying and so, I forgot about cutting myself for a couple years.
While I had physically matured much quicker than others my age, mentally, it seemed I had been halted somewhere. There appeared no reason for it but the things that my schoolmates were interested in disgusted me. When a friend first showed me porn, I remember feeling vomit rise up in my throat. A woman, bundled up with rope, a muscled, balding man arched over her. The blood curling shrieks that filled the room felt torturous. I couldn’t understand how people liked this, how they liked it enough to pleasure themselves to it. I suppose that was when my fascination with sex begun. Initially, it was hatred, a complete abhorrence for the thing, a vexation that appeared randomly and intensely. If a classmate would mention it, or describe any sort of sexual act, I felt ill. My stomach twisting uncomfortably as the boys all called out derogatory names for the women they had seen in the films and then once again, I grew to hate my body.
I was fifteen the next time I cut myself. It was much more deliberate, much more intense. I had swapped out the dull scissors, for a pocket knife a friend had gifted me. It was able to bury itself much deeper than before and immediately, with the first slice, a tsunami of relief rolled over me. Though, it was a different kind of relief than it had been those years before. I found myself thinking back to the woman I had seen in the porn, the intricate ropes that clasped themselves over her limbs, the pained screams that passed her lips. The man leaning over her figure, how his fingers gripped the flesh of her waist, how he bevelled his teeth down onto her neck until it bled. I found myself recalling each detail of the images I had seen so long ago, and I found myself cutting down into the flesh as the memories scurried across my brain.
I felt guilty afterward, an awful guilt that followed me around for weeks. But then, a boy would mention shapes they had seen in porn and suddenly, I would feel the urge to damage myself again. It spiralled quickly. So quickly that I, myself, was shocked. Instead of recalling images I had seen, I created my own imaginations. Blurred, colourless visions of violence, and sex dulling into one, all as I pulled a knife against my own skin. It continued for months, months of fantasies and cutting and by the time my sixteenth birthday hurdled toward me, I had a plethora of thick scars covering my arms and legs. Though that didn’t faze me when finally, three years after all my friends, my mother bought me a cell phone.
She would scour over the phone from time to time, checking my messages, calls, emails, and all other forms of communication. Yet, of all the applications on the phone, my mother was the most ignorant to the internet. She didn’t understand the concept of it, let alone know it was built into the mobile and so, I was able to roam free for the first time. And I roamed. My inexperience meant I didn’t know what sites to go to, nor did I know which keywords to search. The titles of the videos that came up almost seemed to be in a foreign language but after a couple of trips to the websites, I gathered the premise of each category. After locking myself in the bathroom, I would go to the sites and type in words such as bondage, submissive, sadism, pain and the things I liked would appear. Though I now understood how people looked at porn, I still didn’t understand why they touched themselves to it. Merely pushing a blade into my leg as I watched seemed to be enough. I wasn’t sure if it was sexual for me, or if it was a punishment thing as it had been when I was younger.
My understanding of my own sexuality went little further than this and my adventures on the websites dwindled until they stopped. It had grown to stop making me feel any better, and so I began inflicting more serious physical harm upon myself. The hospital visits followed soon after, as did my mother’s rantings about how unhealthy that stuff all was for me. For once, she paid attention to me. It almost felt nice, deserved. But I couldn’t hold it for long, as quite abruptly, my grandmothers health began to decline. She died a while after growing sick, and the absence of her in the house made my mother somehow more insufferable. And though we lived in the same house, it was almost as if we were separated by an unseen barrier.
I didn’t completely mind, it gave me enough solitude to go about my planning. Endless research into where I could live in London, what jobs I could obtain with the qualifications I would acquire after leaving sixth form. It took a while to find what would suit me right but after I finally latched onto it, my future suddenly felt full, meaningful almost. I now had something to look forward to, something to work toward. So, I studied harder, concentrated on the daydreams of my new life away from the idle cottage town. My grandmother had left some money to both me and my mother, more to me. I insisted I was able to tend to my own finances and after long bouts of pleading, my mother agreed. I had money, two months left at sixth form and then I could leave.
Time blurs together, memories jumbling, I can barely remember the last few months back home. But what I do recall vividly, is the night I left. I had booked train tickets the week prior and planned to stay in a hotel while I found somewhere to live. I needed to be close to the central city, I knew that much, though, not much else. I’d found a job interview for admin staff at a stockbroking company. My business a level came in handy, and my odd passion for calculations and numbers did too. If I could just get this job, if I could get that flat, I could make it.
I chose to leave during the night, climbing from my bedroom window, scuttling across the streets like a fragile hedgehog. I’d never even snuck from my house once before and the first time I was, I was doing so knowing that I would never come back. With every step I took I thought I would be caught and hauled back home by my hair. Each step further from the slanted bungalow made my heart beat a little faster until, gradually my pulse slowed, and the gentle pitter of my feet grew to calm myself. Though I didn’t feel completely secure until I passed the welcome sign to the town. But once I did, I felt a weight pulled from my stomach. A sudden notion that I had done it, I had gotten away like my father and brother did years ago, like my grandmother had in death. I was now free to do everything I had lost the chance to do through my mother’s coddling. I could drink, do drugs, have sex with an endless stream of people, work. I found myself grinning as I wandered further from town, the dishevelled map directing me toward the train station. The smile pulling at my lips until I worried they would rip. And it only widened when I spotted the station, when I saw my train, when I boarded, when the train began to drift from the docile place I had called home.
I knew that now, I was reborn, I was my own person. It had taken three years to map everything, to prepare myself for life away from the secure blanket I had been smothered with all my life. But now, it had all come to fruit. I dreamt of London on the train, my head pressed against the window, my scarred legs trembling with the thought of all the things that I could do. My chest thick, and heavy with excitement.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
London was everything I had imagined and so much more. It was larger than anything I had ever seen back home, with each building bigger than the next and thousands of vehicles filling the roads. As the train eventually rolled into the city, my eyes clasped over each detail that began to emerge. The differences of the people that wandered the streets, the warmth in the chatter that clambered through the train windows. Everything was so different, so good. I found myself smiling away as I watched from my place in the tube container, my toothy grin shining back at me in the reflection. I was finally there, finally apart of everything I had read about.
Walking the streets was even better, even more real. My feet paced the same tempo as everyone else, my body dipping between the mounds of crowd as I ambled through the roads, glancing down at the map I had printed back in my murky home. The directions were confusing, each street twisting awkwardly to the next and what should have been a five-minute walk turned into two hours of working out where I was. Though eventually, after consulting several locals, I found my way to the flat I had seen in the ad weeks ago. It was in what my mother would have called a ‘ghetto area’ but it was still much larger and greater than the street I had lived on all my life. It looked a normal house though split into three different flats, with a garden leading up to the two doors and ivy climbing up the sides of the home. I’d felt nervous to knock, I wasn’t particularly sure why. Perhaps because the person to answer could have been my future roommate but now, thinking back, I shouldn’t have been.
The person that had answered was taller than me, her gangling arms hanging low, one raised to her mouth as she nursed a cigarette. She was beautiful in an odd way, striking, her nose large and hooked, hair shorted and burnt from styling. She smiled widely when she spotted my obviously anxious face, her voice pouring out in its deepness.
‘The tenant?’ She mumbled through puffs of the intensely clouded cigarette.
‘Um, yeah.’
‘Cool, cool, yeah, sorry, come in.’ Her accent was prominent, thick and harsh but calming all at once. I smiled as I stepped into the flat, the stairs immediate at the entry. I stood beside my single suitcase, my backpack still on my shoulders, her gaze dancing across them before she turned away. She climbed them ahead of me, her feet clattering against the wooden steps and I trailed behind, eyes clinging to each detail of the walls. I wanted to take in as much as I possibly could, I wanted this to be my home, my sanctuary.
Once we stood in the depth of the flat, the girl began to speak again, pulling the cigarette from her mouth for a moment. Throwing her body onto the dusty sofa and awaiting me to sit beside her. I allowed the bag to drop to the floor, my feet pushing it further from me. My lanky limbs folded in on themselves as I perched on the seat, features impossibly too bright for the dullness of the flat.
‘You’re eighteen?’
‘Nineteen.’ I corrected abruptly.
‘Okay, you just have to be eighteen to rent, but that’s fine then,’ she said, inhaling from the stick before releasing the dense cloud into the room, ‘so, um, this is it.’
‘Um, what’s your name?’ I ask quietly.
‘Oh, shit, sorry, I’m Rose, and you?’
‘Ellie.’ I mumbled.
‘Are you the owner?’
She snickered, ‘Uh, no, my uncle is so I get a discount, barely, but, it helps. Um, he doesn’t really care who moves in but I, I do, I live here, so.’
‘Yeah,’
‘You’re not from here?’ She asked, finally pushing the cigarette into the ash tray that sat near her. The smell still strong but dissipating enough for me to open my mouth to speak.
‘No, I um, actually moved here today.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, um, so, I’m new to this.’
‘Where you from?’
‘A little town just outside Sheffield, I, um, hated it, figured it was time to get away.’ I explained as briefly as I could, my fingers instinctively pulling on my sleeves whilst I spoke of home.
‘For a bit or are you staying here long term?’ She questioned, eyes flitting once more over the lack of things I had brought with me. It hadn’t been that I had forgot much, I hadn’t owned many things back home, not things that warranted bringing anyway.
‘Long term.’ I answered immediately.
‘And you’re gonna work here?’
‘Hopefully,’ I chuckled, ‘I have a job interview tomorrow, so, I um, I’d find work anyway, so I could pay, but,’
‘Cool, so, you want to move in then?’ She proposed, her voice soft, speaking the question as though it held no merit. My stomach churned, lips parting in another goofy smile, head nodding vigorously.
i’m really sorry i disappeared and i’m not sure anyone actually looks at my blog anymore haha!! but i have some important updates and exciting news!!
first of all, i have changed my legal name to maisie (for family reasons) so please respect that and do not use bek anymore!!
and i am going to be posting a long fanfic from now to well i’m not sure! it’s a connected, large story that i’ve been wanting to write forever and i’m taking it seriously now due to a lot of free time pandemic tingsπーπ). i’m gonna post the first part directly after this so please look out for it!
it is very different to anything i’ve ever posted but of course is still nct and smut, two of my favourite things haha!! i hope you guys really like, i wish to write for a career someday and hopefully this will give me more experience... i’m very excited for you to read it!!
i stan so many groups but mostly; nct, exo, superm, red velvet, blackpink, clc, twice, itzy, ateez
i’m a estp-a and a scorpio big ass scorpio
my personal tag is maisie.txt
you guys can always talk to me about anything, send asks or message me... i’m always available ♡
mini faq:
do you only write for nct?
yup ＾ｖ＾
do you take requests?
sometimes haha, you can always send asks with ideas but most of the time i just write what i wanna write
what’s your posting schedule?
i try to upload once a week/once a fortnight, but college and life can get in the way... i will try to write most often though because i really enjoy it.
Oh how do I say this??? Submerged made me feel so loved! It was tender, soft and beautiful and, right now, I'm just overcome with feels.... also, feeling kinda lonely after reading it lol
awww sweetheart ! thank you so so so much, i’m so glad it make you feel loved !! i can totally relate to the loneliness lol, i feel that way after writing sometimes... but re-reading it makes me feel better <33
warnings: unprotected sex (always use protection!!), choking, dom/sub themes
words: 4.8k
Loneliness was difficult to stifle when you were stuck alone for most, if not all of your days. It was hard to ignore, like a thorn stuck beneath your fingernail, constantly snagging against everything, rustling up agony each and every time. Loneliness also had the tendency to make time slow down, to halt each second to an eternity, making the whole notion of waiting more and more tedious. And to make the whole debacle even worse, you knew in actuality that you could help yourself, in a multitude of ways. You could escape your stuffy apartment, call up a friend and get coffee, a simple yet effective way to fill up your evening and stop the torture. You could order a takeout, watch a movie, do something other than lay in your cold bed and watch the clock. You could even go and see him, watch him practice for a bit, stare at his muscles as they moved against the beat of a new song, let your mind haze, simply filled with thoughts of him.
You could go, but would you was the question. The idea of getting out of bed, of dressing yourself, of sitting in a taxi and having to communicate was scolding, and you pulled back from it instinctively, as you would with a flame. But within that hesitancy came a reason to lurch forward toward it, something that would make all the effort worthwhile – you’d get to see Mark. And you knew, as it always happened, that if you made the effort to go to him, sit with him and the other boys for a while, he and you would end up alone. Wrangling yourselves around one another, sloppy mouths clamping together, desperation and sweat containing you both. It always ended up that way, it had for months. And though you and Mark both insisted you were just friends, and only came together when either of you needed to relieve tension, there was a certain romance about sleeping with him that you’d never felt with anyone else. And no matter how, when or where you two slept with each other, it was always special, always fulfilling.
Just thinking of being with Mark made your body tingle and yearn for him, your stomach tightening each time you thought of his fingers brushing against you. A breathe hitched itself in your throat, body tinged with anticipation, and suddenly you propelled yourself forward, almost leaping from your bed. Each movement after the first flowed naturally, muscles twisting as you dressed yourself and gathered a few things. You felt no need to pat makeup onto your face, or find some delicate, matching underwear, being with Mark didn’t need those things. It needed only two things to be something beautiful, you and him.
Mark had told you that he would be at the practice studio all night, going over work he’d already completed, over and over again. And by this time of night, he would likely be there alone as no one else, but Mark fretted that much. You wondered how he’d be feeling, if his work had gone well but perhaps things would be more interesting if he was worked up, if he needed to export his vexation onto something. As you wrangled together the last of your things, and clambered into a taxi, your thoughts of Mark grew tenfold. You sat in silence, nothing but the rumble of the engine and the muffled noise on the radio to keep you company. It was the perfect atmosphere to think in, and your brain took the chance to ramble continuously. You pondered over why you hadn’t informed Mark that you would be there soon, maybe to surprise him but maybe also because you knew it was a bad time to visit, and maybe he’d say no. Not that Mark could ever really say no to you. The vehicle rolled onwards, as did your thoughts, slipping into ideations of Mark and all the small movements he made when you were together. How his smile got brighter, how his cheeks dimpled in laughter, how low he groaned when he first pushed inside you. Quickly, your thoughts descended exclusively upon that subject, imagining all the things he’d do to you, perhaps as soon as tonight. Perhaps even as soon as an hour into the future.
Your mind clouded in a haze, body falling limp against the taxi seats, eyes blinking slowly. You willed the journey to be over, you begged it silently. It felt like an entirety of mere rumination, and with each individual notion, you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter. Your core hot and sticky, dotted underwear clearly already pelted with arousal. Instead of perpetuating your thoughts, you concentrated on calming yourself, and by the time the taxi stopped outside the large studio, you could hardly feel the dampness below. Although it lingered as you climbed out from the car, and made your way up the building stairs, the intensity of the lights consuming your entire being.
The journey toward the practice room seemed to fly by, as though your body were on autopilot, merely entrapped in the need to see Mark. Mark, sweaty from dancing, clad in baggy sweats, hair clinging damp to his glowing forehead, the best kind of Mark. Each door you passed was vacant and empty in its content, your eyes darting around until finally, as you skimmed past seemingly just another room, you spotted the boys. Stood around, sipping from water bottles, or mopping their brow with small towels; and within all the movement, your gaze fixed upon one person in particular. Mark tilted his head back in laughter, eyes scrunching shut, hair slightly stuck to his forehead and yet still falling back. Your body immediately warmed, moving to open the door and slip, as seemingly as possible, into the room.
A few familiar faces spotted you, but stayed quiet with knowledge of your presence, simply mumbling a greeting or nodding a hello. They knew all too well why you were there and began leaving the room one by one. However, as you grew closer to Mark, your attendance seemed impossible to ignore. And as he peered up, curious why silence had flooded him, and his soft umber eyes latched onto you, a deep, cheerful grin warmed over his lips. You could see him visibly fight back the urge to run over and cradle you in an embrace, his body becoming rigid while he waited for you to stand before him. And once you were, he became even more tense. Muscles clenching, jaw sharper than usual, though his gaze was rich and melted like honey. You felt yourself grin in return, eyes cascading down his figure, peering at each feature like he were a coliseum. Mark stood, silent as you brought your eyes back up to meet his, already knowing perfectly well what that look meant. It was familiar, tender and yet somehow, entirely raw and fervent. He knew what came after that look.
‘Hi.’ You mumbled almost inaudibly, watching Mark’s genial smile softly widen, the words stolen from the back of his dry throat. The air was wordless, so much so that the boy stood aside Mark was forced to respond.
‘Hey, you alright?’
‘Yeah,’ you forced your gaze from Mark, ‘I’m good, Johnny, how is everything? Practice going, good?’
Johnny rolled his eyes, glancing at Mark before he replied, his accent thick and heavy. ‘Good as it can be with this one zoning out constantly,’ Mark scowled, finally returning to reality with a tut, glaring upwards at his taller friend. ‘Think it was about time you showed up, we could all use a break, especially Mark.’
‘Yeah?’ You teased, smirking as you spoke.
Mark shot a playful glare your way. ‘I don’t need a break, I just, it’d be rude to force our guest to watch Johnny mess up the choreography for the thousandth time.’ He grinned.
‘Oh shut up,’ Johnny retorted, ‘you know what, go take a break, I needed to pee anyway. Go get a,’ the taller man looked across at both of you, ‘snack or something.’
Mark giggled as Johnny wandered off, pacing out the room, leaving no one but you and a still rigid Mark. You felt yourself smile even in the coldness of the air, the boy stood across from you the same as he always was and yet, slightly changed. As though he’d had a thought he couldn’t shake, one that lingered on the tip of his tongue, but caught each time he tried to breathe it into existence. You frowned, stepping forward and reaching out a hand. Fingers meeting the slightly sweaty skin of Mark’s bicep, the muscle shaking gently beneath your touch.
‘You okay, Marky?’
‘Huh,’ his eyes darted up from the ground, peering deeply into yours, ‘oh, yeah, I’m okay, just… zoned out, it’s been a long day.’
You mellowed, getting even closer to him, your bodies only a few inches apart. Mark warmed into you as you allowed your fingers to curl round his arm, thumb soothing the honied flesh. Your cheeks burnt in a non-existent heat.
‘You tired?’
‘Yeah.’ He whispered, not daring to break eye contact despite your close proximity. His meek response brought a flutter to your stomach, eyes becoming big, and doe-like. You felt, not a lust like usually but a timid longing to merely reach out and comfort him. Slowly, you leaned into the space between you and him, lips puckering slightly and pressing themselves to his. Mouths lulling against each other, the pliant skin of his lips aching upon you, making you want more, making you want to kiss every part of him, making you want to hold him tightly, and never let you. Mark’s kisses had never been so messianic, never so warm, never so, loving. Your hand that had been on his arm guided itself upwards, skimming over the smoothness of his neck and reaching up as it cup his cheek. Fingers spreading out over the flesh, warmth spreading from him to you in a way it never usually did. Mark leant forward, mouth longing for me as you pulled away slightly.
‘Too tired?’
Mark attempted to supress a grin, knowing all the things that had been suggested in a mere two words.
‘Never for you.’
Your chest, and cheeks, and loin, and heart burnt, fingers curling around his jaw and pulling him into you. Mouths aching for more, noses nudging against cheeks, hands desperately reaching to grab for flesh. Mark moved backwards slightly, clearly trying to lug your bodies toward the sofa. You felt yourself smile into the kiss, hands still clasping onto Mark, first by his jaw, and then the short strands of hair on the nape of his neck, and then by the collar of his shirt. Seemingly needing more and more, as did Mark. His body arching into you, chest plush against your breasts, his groin prodding you, the heat of his member obvious even through his sweatpants. Your mouth parted with a groan, with Mark reaching up, clasping a hand around your throat. He latched down gently, fingers strong, curling the way they would when he placed them inside you. Another moan rumbled out your mouth. Mark pulled back, his mouth glistening with spit, glowing beneath the harsh studio lights, hand still gripping your neck. He admired the view for a moment, eyes dulling over each of your features. The stillness had you subdued, right where Mark wanted you, giving him enough time to spin you around and pin you down on the plush sofa.
Your back immediately arched upwards; searching for the slight pressure Mark’s member was giving you. Soft groans rolled out from your lips, with the boy above merely smirking and placing himself over your waist. He removed his hand from your throat, leaving you all too untouched and to make it worse, he took a hold of your wrists and pinned them atop your head. Leaving you helpless and unable to pull him closer. Another, this time louder groan filled the room. You watched from below as a grin parted Mark’s lips, still glowing with the remnants of your kiss.
‘Mark, please.’
‘Please?’ He partially asked, partially mocked.
‘Please fuck me.’
‘Hey, hey,’ he released your wrists though you felt the urge to comply with his wishes, and keep them upon the sofa, ‘patience, baby.’
Mark leant downward, pressing a single kiss upon your lips. The taste of him lingering against you but disappearing all too quickly, though the feeling reappeared upon your neck. Where Mark left small, chaste kisses, trailing lower as though he were mapping out every detail of your skin. He had never taken such care before, never shown such restraint, though, neither had you. The desire to reach up and grasp his shoulders burnt in your stomach, and yet, the compulsion to follow his orders was stronger. It always was. You kept your hands upon the sofa as Mark moved your shirt upward, rolling it as he did, supple skin of his fingers brushing against your torso. Small whimpers left your mouth, eyes tightly shut, embarrassed at how easily his touches affected you. Though you could still somehow see the smirk wiped across Mark’s lips.
As your shirt raised upwards, so did Mark. His fingers sweeping over each particle of your body, lifting the shirt until it met your jaw, the material smothering your face and then all at once disappearing. Cool air met your stomach, lungs heaving while you fought to keep your hands down, fought the burning urge to rake your fingers through Mark’s hair. To touch him, in anyway and everyway. Another mewl fell from your lips, eyes fluttering open to watch Mark as he crept down your body. Lips moulding against your chest, skimming over your crop-top, lingering over the centre of your stomach. You watched him carefully, the way his lips left a trail of his spit, the way his nose brushed against your skin, the way his eyes peered upwards to latch onto yours. Seeing the umber of his gaze forced out another whimper from your mouth, filling the air as did the puckering of his kisses.
‘Mark.’ You moaned, a small snicker coming from Mark.
He stifled a response, merely continuing his way downward until he reached your waist, clad in sweatpants. Mark slithered his fingers down your body, grasping onto the material and pulling it down in one fell swoop. You heaved in a breath, your hands instinctively coming down to cover your lower half, hauling out another chuckle from Mark.
‘Shh, baby, let me see you.’ He coaxed lowly, the rasp of his voice echoing around the empty practice room. Slowly, you placed your hands by your sides, fingers gripping the sofa while Mark heaved your trousers and underwear down your legs. The fabric itched slightly, the boy above you moving down, the pressure of him on your waist disappearing altogether. You mumbled a groan.
‘Patience.’ Mark uttered, your eyes sticking to him as he knelt upwards, and pulled your bottoms from your body. The coolness of the air spread to your entire figure, legs spreading apart as the atmosphere fluttered toward your heat. Your limbs shook slightly, waiting impatiently as moans fell from your lips. Mark leant up slightly, his body lowering until his face met with your core. Your fingers gripped the sofa tighter as Mark breathed out, spraying cold air over your sensitive core, causing a flustered groan to part your lips. Without even thinking, your back arched, trying desperately to get Mark to latch his mouth upon you. He backed away somewhat, watching you buck your hips and groan helplessly. Merely observing your desperation, a grin spreading over his lips, a snigger coming from within him before he leant forward and gently pressed his mouth against you.
A loud moan jutted from your lips, back bowing in order to meet the pressure of his mouth. Mark parted his lips and curled them around your sensitive nub, sucking lightly, focusing on areas he knew you liked him to. Displaying to you just how perfectly he understood your body, how he noticed small reactions and shaped his touches to match them. The man upon you applied more pressure and lapped downwards, pushing his tongue outward and inserting it into you. A short breath sucked itself into your chest, nails scratching the sofa, desperately wanting to grasp onto Mark’s silky hair. Moans filled the room, Mark humming against your heat, spurted wet noises ricocheting around you. Mark dipped himself deeper into you, the muscle aching inside, his fingers curling around your thighs to keep you locked in place. His lips continuously placed pressure on your clit while his tongue worked in and out of your hole, the touches building up a coil of pleasure in your stomach.
However, you needed to feel Mark, you needed to feel every part of him. And as your knuckles grew white against the sofa, they almost ached to touch him. You lifted your hands, pushing them through Mark’s hair, scratching his scalp slightly and tugging on his raven locks. He was too burrowed within your heat to notice at first, his nose nudging your nub as his lips and tongue messily propelled forward at your entrance. As Mark curled his tongue upwards, your grip tightened, fingers burning from how rigidly you held onto him, and finally he realised your touch.
‘Put your hands down by your side.’ Mark commanded, lifting himself away from your heat, head hovering above you pelvis.
‘But I wanna feel you,’ your voice mewled in an obvious beg, ‘please… please I need to touch you.’ Mark sighed and smirked, his lips coated in a glistening layer of your wetness, making you moan once more.
The man remained in his position, titled his head at you mockingly, the smirk sticking to his mouth. His hand slithered away from your thighs, coming down nearer your heat as he swiped two digits over your entrance. A croaky breath caved from within you, his touch fleeting but the evidence that it had been was glazed over his fingers. Mark smiled as he pushed himself further up your body, legs straddling your waist, his torso hovering above your face. You longed for his touch, for his kiss, for him. Yet another moan ebbing from you as Mark held his dampened digits before your face.
‘You do need me, don’t you?’
You nodded frantically, Mark merely chuckling in return as he brought his fingers toward you, their tips touching your mouth. You parted your lips, allowing his digits to swim around inside, the taste of yourself roaming your palette. From below, you could feel the stiffness of Mark’s member, throbbing as a groan came from his throat, rumbling out while he watched you suck upon his fingers. Mark pulled them back, the sheath of your arousal replaced with spit, threads of it hanging from his digits. His hand made its way back down to your core, Mark backing up until he knelt between your thighs, a slight tent in his sweatpants making his intention clear.
With anticipation fluttering in your stomach, your head tilted backward, small, melodic moans passing by your mouth. Breathing had become almost impossible, mere croaks coming to and from your lungs. You waited, as patiently as you possibly could, quiet shuffles coming from Mark as he touch remained from you. With toes curled, you felt a slight poke below, head snapping forward to appreciate his every move. Mark let his two fingers that had previously been in your mouth moisten his length, which by now was free of its fabric restraint. The sweatpants kicked off and spread over the floor. He knelt in his nakedness, baggy shirt falling before his member every so often, a smile warming your mouth at the innocence, even in a moment like this.
Mark groaned as his hand cupped his hard length, head falling backward at finally, a small particle of relief. Though his hand was nothing compared to your heat. As his shirt fell forward once more, Mark mumbled an incoherent curse, lifting the material off his torso and tossing on the wooden ground, his naked body displayed before you like a Greek statue. Your body arched up, Mark staring down at you, the same pliant glee in his eyes. He jutted forward, dipping closer to you, bodies finally on the same level, lips within leaning distance. However, your body was too riled up in anticipation to move, left with only enough fluidity to lift your legs and make access easier for Mark. You kept your eyes locked upon his face, watching intently at each of his features as suddenly, pressure appeared on your core. Pushing forward until Mark slipped himself inside you, tightness still present though you’d done this many times. Your heat slick with arousal and now, filled to the brim with Mark’s member.
The boy let out a deep groan, the rasp of his voice echoing around the room, beaming to your ears like a beautiful melody. You moaned in response, Mark waiting a moment before he began propelling himself back and forth, deep yet slow thrusts building up until you adjusted to his pattern. Hands cradling his shoulders, fingers spreading out as they pulsated at the movement of his muscles. Slowly but surely, his thrusts sped up, the roughness of the speed making it difficult for him to hold himself up. Gradually, he let a hand move to grasp your throat once more, a stifled groan parting your lips when he applied pressure and continued his deep strokes. Your body reacted naturally, as though you were made to be used by him, in anyway he so pleased. Legs lifting themselves higher, hovering either side of his shoulders making Mark squeeze against your neck, a sharp moan coming from his mouth. He could feel himself deep within you, as could you, in fact, you could feel him in every pore, every muscle, every atom.
The viciousness of the tempo continued, your body coiled around Mark as your stomach began to ache, a tight roll of pleasure building deep within you. Mark watched from above, trying to hold himself back from slipping over the edge already. The mere sight of his hand around you neck and your face scrunched up in pleasure making his member throb within you. He lifted his hand from your throat, bringing his other up to latch onto your legs, stretching them even further and holding himself up all at once. The new position allowed him to push even deeper within you, the tip of his length nearly prodding your limit. You tried to hold on, to prolong the feeling but with Mark so close, and his thrusts so deep and fast, it was almost impossible. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers wrapping around his biceps, mouth hanging agape, helpless to the feeling that raked through you.
‘Mark, I’m, I’m gonna,’ you muttered incoherently.
‘I know baby, let go, let go, I wanna feel you cum around me. Please.’ Mark spluttered, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, full of rasp and warmth.
Mark continued thrusting at an impossible pace, stretching you, and filling you up all at once. Your grip on him tightened, breathing becoming nothing more than shallow gasps, eyes scrunching shut in pleasure, euphoria seeping through your body as you clenched around Mark’s length. Your body shook against him, a tidal wave of elation, frenzied orgasm and love coming together in a way you had never felt before.
As your breathing slowly deepened, Mark pulled out of your heat, emptiness seeping inward. His hands quickly left their place of your legs, one grabbing your jaw and lifting you to sit. He stayed kneeling before you, fingers of his free hand curling around his member, trying to match the tempo of the thrusts he’d felt while still inside you. You watched intently, opening your mouth, awaiting his cum with big, pleading eyes. Mark groaned as he looked down at you, eyebrows knitted together, eyes trying desperately to stay open, to continue viewing your expectancy. You shuffled across the sofa closer to Mark, hands holding his thighs, thumbs coaxing his honied skin. Eyelashes fluttering as another deep groan fell from within him, his member throbbing, your lips nearly touching the tip as you watched him. With another moan, and a tightened expression, Mark pumped his seed onto you tongue, the taste dipping across your entire mouth. Mark opened his eyes, heaving breathlessly, his vision clouded but still clear enough to see you swallow his cum.
Your body relaxed, slumping against the back of the sofa, breath still reeling. Mark did the same, first retrieving his sweatpants from the floor and pulling them up his legs, his torso remaining naked, taut from what had just occurred. He sat comfortably yet didn’t beckon you over as he usually did after sex. You waited for the gesture but instead, the man spoke.
‘Fuck.’
‘What?’ You replied, eyebrows threaded together in slight confusion.
‘That feel better than usual to you?’ Mark lifted his head, big brown eyes pondering toward you, innocence seeping back into his expression.
‘I,’ you mumbled, ‘it was, good, it’s always good.’
‘I know, I mean, I know it was good, we always, feel good. But I,’ the boy sighed, ‘something was different, I mean, more, it was, incredible. It was, right?’
‘Mark, being fucked by you is always incredible.’ You reassured, moving closer to him, shuffling inward and curling around his torso. The warmth of his skin coming between your legs, arms tightening around his shoulders. You worried he felt like this because he wasn’t confident you enjoyed yourself, although that had never been a problem before. You worried he was insecure all of a sudden, though something in your heart told you it was more than that.
‘You didn’t feel it?’
‘Mark, I,’
‘No?’ His expression grew intense, far too intense for the fun you’d just had together. Your stomach ached with nervousness, teeth biting down on your lip before you thought of something to hopefully lighten the mood.
‘Look,’ a hand raised, fingers curling around Mark’s jaw, heaving his face toward you, ‘it’s okay, I mean, I get it… I’m amazing, you must just be in love with me or something.’ You chuckled, though Mark still appeared filled with trepidation. He sucked in a deep breathe, his skin burning as you continued cuddling into his side. Mark broke eye contact for a moment, letting the air he’d heaved back out into the atmosphere, eyes then returning to you. He scrawled your fearful expression and knew then, that he had no option but to speak.
‘I am.’
Your chest swelled, eyes watching Mark, not knowing what to say, or if to say anything at all. He… loved you? Mark loved you? You couldn’t see sense in it, but you could tell from the intensity of his stare that he was serious, and that he was anticipating his confession to be rebuked. Your lips parted in shock, the hand that had grasped his jaw now soothing his cheek. Holding him in place, fearful he’d look away. You searched for any second thoughts in his orbs but found nothing but certainty and warmth. And in that moment, you’d never been more sure of anything than what you had to do.
Gently, you placed a kiss against Mark’s lips. His mouth still salty from your own arousal and his own sweat, but he’d never tasted sweeter. He had never been so present in a kiss, never been so needed. Mark lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks, his touch tender and loving, lips melting into yours. It felt like the most natural thing to do, and pulling apart from him made your stomach-ache, but burn simultaneously. Because now you knew, that you could kiss him whenever, and wherever you so pleased.
Mark dipped his head forward, searching for your lips once more but instead found nothing. He opened his eyes to find a soft smile gracing your mouth, remnants of the kiss still visibly glossy in the studio lights.
‘Did we just confess our love for each other?’ Mark chuckled, grinning widely. You smiled back.
‘Well, technically, I didn’t say anything.’
‘But you, you love me? Right?’ Mark’s eyes became clouded once again as you merely rolled yours.
‘Of course I do, I figured that was obvious by now. I actually,’ you broke eye contact, ‘thought you already knew.’
‘I, I didn’t, no.’
You peered back up at the man, at his golden skin, supple lips, his softly blushed cheeks and kind eyes, a smile warming your mouth.
‘You know now, that’s all that matters.’
Mark smiled back, feeling nothing but assurance that you loved him just as much as he loved you.
i’m so sorry guys but some personal family stuff came up this week and i’m helping out with that. the fic is mostly completed but i want to edit it so i can make it perfectttt!! i think you guys will love it, and maybe if i try hard it can be posted on tuesday <33
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