The Older Man (BoyxBoy)

Eight

IAN

            We uncontrollably and unintentionally made love again. This was the sixth time in the space of two weeks that we made love and I’m quiet positive that if we had more time to spend with each other that number would be much greater. The intensity I felt while we were making love still sent tremors of pleasure through my body. It just sort of happened. It always does. One minute we’re talking or laughing, then we make eye contact for a second longer than a glimpse and that’s it. It even happened two times while we were in the middle of having sex. I remember, one time, I had just entered him when he moaned and I looked at his face. His eyes caught mine and that was it. The other time he said something funny and I actually had to stop to laugh. The smile lingered on his face and my eyes only trailed from his lips to meet his for a second and that was it.

            I know both our minds deny what our bodies feel. After we spent the weekend together, the fear I felt for falling so fast, quickly dissipated. Every time I looked at him, kissed him, touched him, hugged him, listened to him, and most importantly, every time he made me laugh, I realized that nothing in my life will ever feel this right. Nothing in my life ever felt so right, period.

            As I look at him not looking at anything in particular, I wonder if whatever he feels for me is strong enough to keep him around no matter what happens. Would he be able to handle it if I let him in?  Would he walk away from me? Would he believe in me…in us? I’m an idiot for even wondering that. Anyone who knows him knows that he’s not the kind of person to take anything from anyone. I wouldn’t be any different.

            “Ollie?” I called, tentatively. I don’t know what I want per se, all I know is that he looked trapped in his head and I just wanted to get him out.

            “What?” He answered. His tone told me to leave him alone but I didn’t want to. I couldn’t.

            “Hungry?”

            “No.”

            “Thirsty?”

            “No.”

            “Sleepy?”

            “No.”

            “Worried about something?”

            He paused first. “No.”

            “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

            “No.”

            “Is there anything I can do to help?”

            “No.”

            I felt a smirk on my lips. “Horny?”

            This time he turned and gave me a look that clearly said: Are you fucking serious? I’m surprised he didn’t say it. Wrong move. I gave up and left him alone, turning on my belly as I hugged my pillow and turned away from him. That’s the only way I could leave him alone without actually leaving him alone incase he decided he needed me. Maybe he’ll feel like I gave him some space and that’ll help.

            How does he always make me feel so small? It wasn’t in a bad way that he does. I’m so used to being Ian Stone. I’m used to getting any and everything I wanted. With Ollie, it’s never like that. I never get away with anything—not a pass. The person everyone knows me as doesn’t matter to him.  He reminds me that I’m not just a name, that I am someone.  It’s so hard to be someone. It’s even harder to be someone for someone else. Ollie is worth everything.