The Art of Moving On | ✔

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX; part one

     When I wake for the second time that morning, I do feel thoroughly debased. My body is loose, like every muscle has been reduced to its finest threads. I'm sore, too, can tell just by shifting my hips. My hips which are pressed up against Dres, who's draped across my back. I'm not sure how we got positioned quite like this, but am also not here to complain.

     Dres is still asleep. His even breaths are hot against the back of my neck. He's hard, though, can tell that, too, by the feel of him pressing against the back of my thighs. There're no clothes between us, just electricity. I hike my knee up, so Dres is between my thighs. It's almost perfect, but not. I have to shimmy down the bed just a fraction. I'm trying to work my way into position without waking Dres just yet, but the attempt fails.

     He mumbles into my shoulder, "Don't even."

     "Don't even what?" I say, trying for an innocent tone as I shift some more. I've got him right where I want him now. If only I can just...

     "Cas, cut it out," he responds, moving, so he's not buried between my thighs, but more resting against them. I lift my hips backwards till they come into contact with him. "I'm going to kill you," he says as he presses his forearm between my shoulders, pinning me against the bed.

     "Oh, this is perfect. Now just slide right in."

     "I'm not going to just slide right in," Dres says, aghast.

     "I'm perfectly prepped," I respond, wanting to turn and look at him if just to see his reaction. His arm against my back keeps me from moving, though. "If you recall, a mere few hours ago, we engaged in, you know, what I would personally identify as come-to-Jesus sex. Emphasis on the come. Emphasis on the Jesus, too, honestly."

     "And yet you still aren't sated."

     "I mean, to be fair, I'm not the one leaking against my ass right now."

     Dres growls and then he's no longer lying on top of me. I'm mildly shocked, sure that I was moving the conversation in a direction where I got to have sex, again.

     "Hey, wait, no, that wasn't me complaining. That was the opposite of a complaint. Come back." I don't move but I turn my head so I'm looking in the direction Dres has left the bed at. He's standing in front of his nightstand putting a condom on. "Oh," I say and feel a heat rush over me at the sight. It's a good sight, one I'm not going to tire of. Thank god we are having sex again. "Forgot about those things."

    "Were you just going to let me not use one?" he asks as he climbs back into bed. I'm still lying ass up, and ready for the taking, but Dres has paused to stare at me.

     "I can't tell how you want me to answer that," I say.

     "Honestly."

      "I would let you do anything to me," I tell him. Because he asked for honesty and that's it.

     "No," he says, sounding exasperated.

     I frown. "What do you mean no? Yes. I'm saying I would."

     "Not that," he insists.

     "I trust you," I say, meaning that equally as much.

     "It doesn't matter, Cas. You make exceptions with me, then you start making exceptions with other people. It's not safe."

     Why is Dres talking about me fucking other people?

     "Okay, this conversation has moved into buzzkill territory." My voice, evidently, doesn't betray the hurt I feel from his comment.