DraowantedtoprotestwhenhefeltthepushandtheheatofPotter’sbodyvanish,buthisbreathaughtinhisthroatwhenPotter’sfingerssoftlybrushedhisbak,pushinguphisshirt,andhefeltPotter’sbreath,teasingly,againsthisskin.DraomoanedasPotter’slipsghostedoverhisbak,brushinghisskineversoslightly.
“Bloodytease,”hegroundout,hisgriponthehairtightening.Potterhadthenervetohukle,beforehishandsthedontoDrao’shipsandhismouthmovedlower.Draofelthimshift,asifhewasgettingdownonhisknees.HearhedhisbakientlywhenPotterstartedmassaginghisbakside,whilehishotbreathkeptteasinghisskin.OneofPotter’shandsdarteduptoDrao’sbak,onlytobedraggeddownagonisinglyslowly.DraobitbakanothermoanwhenPotter’sfingersreahedhisleft.HeheardPotterhum,beforehisfingersweresuddenlyrepedbysomethinghotandwet.Fuk!Heouldn’thelpbutshiverasPotterlikedhiswayfromDrao’sballstothesmallofhisbak.SweetSazar!AouplemoreminutesofthisandDraowouldbereadytoome.
PottermadeanappreiativesoundasDraotrembledbehhistouh.
“Spreadyourlegsalittlemore,”Pottersaid.Draogroaned.Hetried,buthistrouserswereintheway,trappinghislegs.PotterseemedtonotieandquiklyhelpedDraooutofthem.Legsspreadwideandheartpoundinginhishest,DraowaitedforPotter’smove.Warmhandswereonhisarseinaninstant.
“Fuk,yes,”Potterhissed.Draohoked,hisokthrobbing,asPotterspreadhisheeksapartandhistonguedippedintohisleftonemore.
“Ohfuk!Ohfuk!Oh—”
Drao’seyesflutteredopen.fused,heblinkedafewtimes,beforeherealisedhewasindeedlyinginthedark.Inhisbed.Alone.
Shit!
Panting,hewipedthesweatoffhisforeheadwiththebakofhishand.HeouldstillfeelPotter’stouhonhisskin.Only,unlikeinhisdream,itdidn’tfeelarousinganymore.Itfeltlikesomeinvisibleforewasrashingdownonhim,stiflinghim.
Itwasn’tthefirsttimehehaddreamedaboutPotter.Butneverhaditfeltsoreal.Neverhaditbeenthisdevastatingtowakeup,torealiseithadonlybeenadream.Hisokseemedtoagree.Apparently,therewouldbenoneedtotakeareofit.
Heturnedonhisside,hugginghiskneeslosetohistorso.Why,whydidithavetobelikethis?Whywouldn’ttheuniversestopthim?Heknewhedidn’tdeservehappiness.Butdidhereallydeservetosufferlikethis?
Heinstantlytoldhismindtoshutup,beforethewaveofself-loathingouldhokehim.Heknewhewasn’tworthyofPotter.Holy,hewasn’tworthyofhisfianée,either.Ex-fianée,heorretedhimself.Maybethiswasthewayitshouldbe,forhimtobealonefortherestofhislife.Andmaybethatprospetwouldn’thaveseemedsoterrifyingandgut-wrenhingiftherehadn’tbeenthisagonisingpain,thisgapingholeinhishest,exposinghisheart,whihwassreamingandyearningforPotter.
Friday,23May2003
“Areyoustillpouting?”
“I’mnotpouting.”
“He’sstillpouting.”
“Shutup,Bise.Andyou,”DraopointedawarningfingeratPansy,“youpromisedtokeepyourmouthshut.Somuhforthat.”
“Sazar,Ihatewhenyou’reinabadmood,”Pansysaid,rollinghereyes.“Youalwaysdrageveryoneelsedownwithyou.”
“You’reonetotalk,”Draohuffed.
“Obviously,I’mfarmoredelightfulthanyou,”sheretorted.Herexpressionturnedmorethoughtfulasshetappedherfingersagainstherthighs.“Look,it’sbeentwomonths.”
“So?”