One Last Time.
I smiled to myself as I saw the familiar silhouette of his shoulders and arms from across the street. I'd recognize them shoulders, anywhere, anytime. I knew it was him all along, the mind games, the way he texted, I don't know why he thought I was stupid enough not to know. I've breathed him in and out of my soul for four years, I would know.
His face, was unrecognisable. After more than a year, I didn't feel anything when I saw him. Heart wasn't racing, no tears, nothing. Just satisfaction that I was right. Awkward silences and then a "hey" from him. That voice. Anything could change but that voice, it stirred something in me. I was just taking him in. He suddenly looked his age, young. The hoody, the sweatpants, his clean shaven face. I couldn't find my person in him, anywhere. I couldn't find who I knew and loved four years ago. He broke my heart and yet here we are. Smoking, at the same spot we used to everyday.
He keeps a distance and I was just aching for something familiar. Anything. We stared at each other shamelessly, memorising every inch from top to toe. Small talk. I was watching his eyes, looking for the long lashes I loved. He was an undeniably handsome motherfucker. Once upon a time, I fell so hard for him, so damn hard. Now, stood in front of me was a stranger and all I longed for was his touch. To make this real, for everything to come flooding back. I never believed that I would ever see him again, in person.
It was far too late to question his mistakes. My heart was numb, with nothing left for him, or so I said to myself to justify my need to see him, for one last time. We walked to the bench, the same one that held countless memories of us having meals, watching movies, talking about life, with my head nestled in his chest. He sat across from me, I ignored the sinking of my heart, thought it was for the best. Kept asking him to say something, because my mind was blank. I asked questions, he answered them, and in my head, it was all but us holding each other, me feeling his warmth. Those days seemed way too far now. It felt like he was also far away, though he was in front of me.
"Can I get a hug?" I managed to muster after much thought. I was afraid of his answer, I just put up a really good front. I was touch starved, for him. He said "Okay, once we smoke, and then you go back home." I didn't wait, I went right up to him the moment we stood up. He returned the hug, and then I felt my heart racing. A tiny bit. I could hear his heart beat, it was racing and somewhat comforting. Again, I didn't know what I was trying to achieve. I wanted him.
We smoked, I was seated, he stood a couple of steps before me. "Stand up" he said and like a puppet I did. Looking back now, it was all a blur. He was then seated and I stood in between his legs. His hands were grabbing my legs, my ass and I wanted them everywhere. Our faces were so close, I had to kiss him. And kiss him I did, those soft, familiar lips. He stopped midway and said we had to leave. I wasn't going to let him leave. My body was craving for him and I wanted to know that he was aching for me too.
When I said I wanted more, he said it won't be nice. I asked why and he held me close and said "Cos I will treat u like a fking slut". "Do it." "Are you sure?" "Yes."
I was having flashbacks of us, me holding his face, mid-thrust, getting his attention, looking into his eyes and telling him "I love you."
Whatever happened after was a crazy blur. One moment he was eating out my ass, next moment I was sucking his dick. I wasn't allowed to make a sound, I tried so hard. He wasn't gentle at all, I loved it, or more like I used to. At this moment, I was just overwhelmed with all e familiarity, his eyes, his hands, his fingers oh my god his fingers, his tongue, his dick. The way I moaned when I felt his tongue on my clit, I was riding his face without a second thought. The way he pounded his dick into my pussy without warning, the way my pussy sucked in his dick, the way he grabbed my throat while fingering me. He wasn't my beautiful lover boy anymore and yet he was every single bit of the lover boy I remembered. I felt completely used and utterly satisfied. My legs gave way, I was shaking uncontrollably, completely dazed, trying to catch my breath, tear stricken face, I fell back into his arms.
My brain was filled with his voice on repeat, shaming me for being such a filthy slut, his hands gripping my waist so tight. The whole time, I couldn't see his face, his eyes. Looking back, I think that's what I missed most. Looking into his eyes, which burnt with desire for me. Eye contact was our thing, always.
My emotions were on a all time high because I knew this would be the last time. This was absolutely nothing like how it was between us, but I had craved for him so badly. I wanted to feel him, hold him and remember him in all the ways I possibly could. He always made me feel special, like I was a goddess, his sexy goddess.
Another flashback. Us naked, him making me look at us in the mirror. Forcing me to look at myself. "Open your eyes, look at how beautiful you are, fking gorgeous. Look."
I don't regret anything. I am selfish, I used you as much as you did me. You will forever be my bearded man bun guy with them cool aviators. My Beastie. Etched in my memories, deep. What a journey it was with you. And it still is. Nowadays, I remember things I had completely forgotten. There's no more pain, just bittersweet memories. I feel at peace knowing I did everything I could but this was never meant to be.
I would have done anything for you.
Alas, the truth is;
We both know, I deserve better.
