"I have never asked about your tattoos."  I comment as I run the tip of my finger on his arm, lying comfortably in his bed.

"There's not much to tell."  He only responds and somehow I am not surprised.

"Why?  If you have them on your skin they must mean something..."  I look at the one on the arm I am caressing and read it out loud. "Things I can, what does it mean?"

"It only reminds me that there are things I can change in my life and that there are things I can't change."

"That's what you have on your other arm, isn't it?  Things I can't?"

"Yes."

"Towards what?  Why do you have to remind yourself of that?"  I wait for a response, but he doesn't talk, so I try to precise my question to get him to answer me.  "Is it towards life in general or towards something that happened to you in the past?"

"The past...  Towards--"  He stops himself and clears his throat as I see him tense up.

Just as I am about to tell him to let it go and not speak about the things he doesn't feel at ease to share, he speaks again with a deep low voice.

"Towards my dad."

I feel bad to make him remember his death.  I don't know what happened, if it was tragic or not, but I know that losing your parent at fifteen mustn't be the easiest thing.  Just as he is going through puberty, school --he was probably being bullied at that time too--, his dad dies.  It just adds to all the complicated things he was going through already.

Until now, I was keeping a safe barrier between us as he is not used to all the affection I would want to give him.  I also remember how he didn't like Ronnie being clingy, so I give him his distance, feeling emotionally close instead of physically, and I am very happy with that, but seeing him that way just draws me to comfort him.  So, I just take his hand from the arm I was caressing and kiss his palm.  I look at him in silence, until he gazes back at me.  He licks his lips and takes control of his hand to cup gently my cheek.  He is giving me affection now and there's nothing that could make my heart race harder in my chest.

He doesn't say a word, he just looks at me.  I know he won't talk about it further with me tonight.  But I feel so happy to have had him talk that much to me at all.  We are taking a step in the right direction and I somehow know that, for once, we won't step back from it, that we might keep moving forward.

He pulls my face towards him as he rolls his body entirely on me.  My legs absentmindedly part to invite him on me, moulding together like two puzzle pieces.  I don't know what he thinks about but it fuels his fire with which he kisses me.  His lips take their time on mine and I let him completely guide the pace.  I ravish in feeling this side of him, it makes it worth all of the others.  I embrace his chest closer to mine as he seems to tell me more with his body and his actions than he ever did with words.

What happened to him?  Is this truly all so new to him?  Does he want me to be affectionate towards him?  Is he at least feeling something for me?  How did I fall for him?  Why is he the one making me feel that way?  Is this something as special as I think it is?  Why does he remind me of the lover in my story?  Am I trying to make him become this protagonist, born from my fantasies?

I tear myself out of my thoughts when his lips leaves mine to kiss their way down to my chest.  He lifts the shirt I have on to expose my skin to meet with the warmth of his breath.  He not only kisses his way down, crawling back to make of my biggest fantasy a reality, but he devours me. 

I feel both completely aroused and terrified.  Nobody ever kissed me down there and I can see clearly that he intends to.  My heart is racing as my eyes can't stop looking at him.  But before any complex gets to me and my mind makes him stop, he smiles with a dimple that makes me melt as he looks up and his eyes meet mine.

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