Wherever You Wander h.s. (daddy addition)

sixteen

As the scrawny and the beautiful depart, or at least the beautiful stays and the scrawny goes my eyes roll back in relief. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said I almost died from the overwhelming fume of relief. Though, with relief also comes a beautiful mistake, one that couldn't possibly end with 'happy'.

I feel such great power lurking, prowling along my body as though it may be animalistic rather than belonging to a beautifully mistaken creature; my Wesley. Her stares aren't ones of hunger, nor sorrow, nor fear, nor doubt, but resemble roguish desire and lost hope. Out of impulse my hands are bound to hers; her want manifests my mind in such an extraordinary manner—still the approach; grueling as ever. My face so close, though proves to be not enough, but I know, I know if I go any further, I won't be able to turn back.

I won't do it. I won't put a wonderful girl and her mother through such an abundance of pain, such feuding fraud to break apart what little family is left. "Do it Harry." She's like my self conscience; so conniving and yet, convincing as all hell. "Feel, don't think Har." She removed her hand, not to get away, but to push my long waves back.

I'm almost about to kiss her, maybe even suck her face off, but the part of my brain that makes any sense ever kicks in. "No, I—we can't do this." I look away, but feel as though I'm looking straight ahead into her eyes due to the minimal contact she's making and always seems she has to. She always has her hand on me; much like her mom. Her touch; Wesley's does so much more to my body, skin isn't frightened, it instantly warms, like a slow cooker and beans at a late July cookout. I don't notice as soon as I'd wished I had, but when it hits, my jaw is warmed by the creamy, sultry wind of Wesley's exhalation.

"Do what you want, explore me, handle me roughly, like of an on leash beast; like you're my tamer, because you are, and I'm feeling this. Right now. I am feeling this." My mind boggles at the thought of role play; Wesley so dominant and controlling could really satisfy my undying need for gratifying pleasure. My hips buck and restrain her to the cabinet behind her. She suddenly becomes very weak; just how I like her.

Her body heat probably a good ten degrees; the proximity becoming scads more intense. Cliché enough to say: my body warms and sizzles at the thought and feeling of hers. Little does she know;I'm the weak one. I'm weak; the fervent conditions aren't proving to better the situation either. This beautiful moment with this beautiful girl shows I need this. I need her, this one time. If I have her for myself this one time, maybe I can prove to myself that I could maybe stay faithful for once in my goddamned life.

I give in along with every bone in my body. "Okay darling, stay awake, I'll go make sure your mom is asleep." My thumb caresses the sweet Wesley's cheek, I look at her with a glance of partial excitement, but mostly tenderness, like a sweet lust.

She nods seating herself at the end of her bed.

Wesley's POV

It's been roughly fifteen minutes and I'm bored. He probably won't even come back; why would he? I'm Wesley —too big for the boys—Stewart, not the beautiful hooker I sometimes wish I was.

I begin to undress and pay close attention to both my flaws and my 'livable with' qualities. I've found that I feel sexier naked, nothing to restrain my curves in the wrong places, nothing to portray my figure as baby fat or the outline of a plum.

I hate myself more than all would believe. My fatty knees, the excess flab known as the inside of my thighs, the way my folds aren't hidden, but stick out due to years of wear and tear, my elephantine nose, and just about any other noticeable flaw within my being. Soon bare, I just stare, I scan every inch not dismissing the creases and crevasses.

I realize I have flaws, that all people have flaws, that life itself has of all flaws the making of a human, the most flaw full version of life's inadequacy. I just don't know what it is, but something about the flaws of society's casualty make models, celebrities, players, athletes, and even the popular crowd at school have the social status they have today. I find it sickening, that society has its ways of making us petty others—ones who don't meet status standards— feel insecure and bad about ourselves.

I handle my sides softly, then dig my nail into the shroud of my abdomen; my imperfect skin. As if I'm stripping myself of all my insecurities I wrench and heave at the things I hate most. "You're so goddamned ugly Wesley. I speak and though tears may strike, no storm could stop me from my mission— "stop, stop." His voice: worried but calming.

Both his hand cover the expanse of my face. It calms me. In one motion he swipes away my tears and the stray fringe that seemed to be glued to my face because of the saturated mess my timid eyes left. His hands are big, big enough to cradle my face and leave no inch unattended.

"If being mousy is what it takes to see that you're beautiful then so be it, but if you're going to hurt yourself, well that's where you went wrong. Someday, maybe not tomorrow, or the next, but someday you'll think back and know you're only insecurity was not believing you're beautiful." Complete awe over took my face as he spoke his mind and cupped my hip in a forceful manner dragging my rear into the platform of his body.

"I want this." I close my eyes and scan my closet-lids in a peaceful manner, a little bit of belief finally sinking in. My whispers slowly flow to beat of Harry's breaths. "Doesn't matter what happens. I know there's always risks; I don't care, as long as it's you. I'm sick of it: guys not wanting me. You're the first to ever take interest and I admire that, but especially because I look at you similarly." I turn around and look at him with big eyes only to see he's closed his. "C'mon, don't be a child about this, prove to me: 'I'm Harry, and this is happening'. My arms flail and gesture to all of him.

"I'm Harry, and this is happening." He raps his rather long arms around me and pulls me close finding refuge in the crook of my neck. Grabbing my arms and wrapping them tight around his muscular build, the same body I hadn't realized was so immensely muscular. He's a beautiful, masculine angel.

Let's just say, if I were to, by chance end up pregnant I'm glad it'd be with him. I'm tickled pink at the thought.