With or Without

13. Tong

I hated doggy style. Having Pok behind me, thrusting into me like I was some disembodied thing made me feel like I wasn't real. Like I was only there in form but not in spirit. He could reduce me to my most generic self; a hot hole for him to fuck.

But when he pushed me on my hands and knees and mounted me from behind, I had to admit that it had more to do with me than with him. I couldn't see him. I couldn't tell that it was him. I needed it to be him. It couldn't be anyone else. It never had and there was even less of a chance now that I knew what was possible. What I would lose when he walked away.

I held back the sob. The fears that I'd fucked things up beyond repair, were so very real. Between us, at that moment, I could no longer feel the pleasure of his possession, the tenderness of his caresses, the sweetness of the kisses he sprinkled on my shoulders and back and neck.

I bit into my arm to silence the sound.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." How could I lie like that, when he had his hand on my flaccid cock and I knew he could feel my body shaking?

"Tell me."

"I'm so sorry for everything? I only wanted what was best for you. I never consider that you needed something else? Someone else."

He pushed me on the bed and I fell forward. Using the duvet to wipe my tears. There is no way to get rid of all the evidence, even though I tried. When he turned me on my back, I knew he could see my lies.

He parted my legs. Holding them as he situated himself between them. Pressing his still engorged prick into me. Making me cry out when he thrust into me hard. The new position changing the way he felt inside me. Like he'd grown in girth and length and my body was barely able to contain him.

"Is this what you want?"

What did he mean?

"Do you need me to take you like this?" He asked thrusting again. "To look at you and make much of you."

I had no idea he could read my mind. My wide-eyed stared probably making me look ridiculous. I didn't think he wanted an answer. He already knew what I was thinking.

"Or do you want this?" Pok leaned forward and kissed me—hard.

His mouth devouring mine. His teeth catching the soft flesh of my lips, drawing blood and a gasp of reaction from me. I was barely keeping up with his assault. Wanting to give something in return but not sure I had anything he wanted. The sobs rose with the desire.

The need to have him right where I couldn't deny it. Yes, this was what I needed. To know I was him. To feel him take me, own me. Bring us both to the edge of bliss and thrust us both over the edge into something that wasn't of this world. I needed to hold him back. To touch him. To know, with all my senses, it was him and nobody else.

"It has to be you," I said between moans and tears. "It has always been you."

When I fell into an emotionally and physically exhausted sleep, I knew he held me. Because I woke up beside him still sticky. Thinking it was a good idea if we took a shower together.

I got three A's and a B. Those were my final grades on the labs I retook. The lowest grade on my new labs was an A. I had passed all my remaining CATs. I had done a little extra credit to make up for the ones I failed. Adding the outreach program to my list of achievements in case they came back to haunt me.

If I did well in the final exam, which accounted for 50% of my total grade, I was assured of at least a strong credit. It was more than I had hoped for after the upheaval with Pok. The break-up had turned my life upside down. Nothing had gone back to normal. That hope was long gone. But I had come to terms with the crazy world I lived in. This was my new normal

I didn't think of Pok and I as settled. It was more like a mutual acceptance of perpetual ambiguity. Nobody ever saw us together. We didn't hang out in public. I never went to his apartment or watched him practice and I definitely didn't acknowledge him if he happened to meet in the halls.

He came over to my place at least twice a week. Sometimes we ate together. Sometimes we studied. Most times we fucked. He spent the night if he wanted to which was most of the time and he always left before I woke up. I have no idea what he told our friends he was doing. I didn't ask. I barely ever hang out with them anymore. I couldn't be with them and not give myself away.

But we lived in the same world. It was impossible to avoid them altogether.

I invested in an inexpensive bed frame and salvaged a desk and chair from the university garbage dump. It had been easy enough when I found a security guard doing the same. When I asked if there was a problem with me repurposing the broken desks and chairs, he'd laughed too loudly and too long.

"The less garbage we have around here the better—and we have a lot of garbage." I got the feeling he wasn't talking about broken desks and chairs.

I had two of everything now. Two cups, two spoons and two forks, two bowls and two pillows. I had a steady supply of instant coffee—the best I could afford. There were hangers in the closet with Pok's clothes next to mine. The electric kettle now shared the space with a cheap microwave. It felt more like my home than a halfway house.

But the test of my comfort came in the most unlikely package. I had gone shopping and was carrying the bags back to my room when my neighbour stopped to help me.

"You live in 3C." His statement needed no reply from me. "You took over the lease from the Comm Arts guy, right?"

"Yeah," I answered when he finally asked a question.

"I'm in 3B," he said like it was supposed to mean something.

"Nice to meet you, neighbour," I greeted thinking that was the reason for his impromptu introduction.

We reached my door and I reached for my bag but he pulled away and for a moment I was afraid I was in for a confrontation. Instead, he looked embarrassed before squaring his shoulders and looking straight at me.

What was his problem?