Love Hurts Sometimes By DMR
Disclaimer: This is purely fictional and has no correlation to anybody in real life. If you are underage, or are offended by homosexual relationships, than leave.
This is my own work and may not be reproduced without my prior consent.
For comments, write to: chaotic@dodo.com.au
My fingers touch his face, caressing the course skin underneath. I watch as his eyes flutter in his dreams and wonder what he is thinking as he snorts in disgust. Yawning, I pull myself away from his side and walk sorely towards the bathroom. Last night's activities were still felt and I know they would be for a couple of days.
"Marc?" a haggard voice cries out.
I look through the bathroom door and see a bleary eyed man in bed.
"Yeah?"
"Come back to bed."
"I'm going to have a shower."
"Have one later. Want you now!"
Stepping back into the bedroom, I cross my arms defiantly.
"Nope, don't want to."
He looks up at me with a semi-shocked expression, "What?"
"You heard me," I say defiantly.
"Babe, come back to bed."
"No."
"Please?"
"Nope."
Pushing himself back into bed, he voices "Suit yourself. I'm positive that I could get more satisfaction from my hand anyway."
"Go ahead then," I say playfully, "Make my day."
"Cliche."
"Tough. It's early in the morning and both of us have jobs to do. The boxes aren't going to pack themselves, y'know."
I cautiously kneel upon the bed and wait for his comeback. However, all I hear were soft moans and jerking motions underneath the silk sheets.
"You're not wanking, are you?" I ask, slowly creeping to his hiding figure.
Without warning, he pounces upon my startled figure.
"Get off me, you great oaf," I cry, pushing against a solid wall of his flesh.
"Oaf?" he pants, "You're a snob, Marcus!"
"Fuck you!"
"No, but I'm going to fuck you until you cry for mercy."
"Oh, please. Was that a threat?"
"Nope, a promise."
"Ha! One you will definitely break!"
"I never break promises."
I stop wrestling to look into his eyes, "But you have, Luke."
Pushing him away, I sit up on the bed and begin to move away. Luke's hand grabs my wrist and pulls me back down.
"Fuck, Marc, how long are you going to keep this up?"
I pull my wrist away from him, "I don't know."
"Are you ever going to forgive me?" he pleads.
"Luke, it's not that simple. You lied and cheated on me! What am I meant to do. Just forget that?"
Again, I pull myself away from him and walk towards the bathroom. I close the door behind me and turn on the shower taps. Cold and hot water cascades down onto the shower floor as I step into the mist. I hear angry mutters through the bathroom wall as tears slide down my face.
"Breakfast!" I yell, placing Luke's cereal and coffee on the table.
A thunder of footsteps floods the staircase as Luke emerges in the kitchen doorway.
"I'm not hungry."
"What do you mean you're not hungry?" I ask impatiently, "it's already on the table."
"I'm just not hungry, okay?"
"But you're always hungry."
"Am I?" he asks sarcastically, "I guess you really don't know me."
"What's that meant to mean?"
"You figure it out."
"Damn you," I cry, "What the fuck do you want from me?"
He shakes his head incredulously, "Why is it always you? Why is everything about you?"
I stare at him silently.
"I can't do anything right, can I?" Luke continues, his voice getting louder. "Everything I do is wrong, isn't it? I can't do anything right! Why are you so fucking perfect?" He stands up violently, the chair falling backward upon the linoleum.
I step back nervously, "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Fuck this!" he pounds his hand upon the kitchen table. "IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU!"
He swipes his arm over the table and shoves the contents upon the floor. The cup and bowl shatter, the ingredients spill onto the floor.
I shake uncontrollably and tears have again traced their tracks down my cheeks. Luke grabs the chair and pulls it up, sitting on it despairingly. He puts his head in his hands and cries silently.
I pick up a nearby tea towel and begin to clean the mess.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs through his hands, "I'm so sorry."
"I don't think we should move in together."
He stares up at me, his eyes wide with fear, "Why?"
"This, us, it isn't going to work."
Luke looks down onto his hands, his face contorted with pain.
"Why can't it work, Marc?"
"Because I can't seem to trust you, Luke."
"You trusted me last night."
"We had sex, Luke, that's all."
"No, we made love. Real, honest love."
"Luke...."
"No, Marc, not this time, please. I love you."
I stop packing and look at Luke, "Please, can we stop fighting for awhile?"
"We're not fighting."
"Um, yes we are."
"No, we're not."
"Yes, we are."
"We are now," Luke says, trying to hide a smirk.
I stare up at him and laugh.
"You have a beautiful laugh, Marc," he says slowly getting up and crawling over to me.
I raise an eyebrow, "What are you up to, Lukas?"
"Nothing, Marcus, just wanna be closer to my man."
"That sounds like a bad romance novel."
"You can be real romantic sometimes, Marc."
"Only with the right man," I say putting my arms around his shoulders and drawing him near.
"Really?"
"Yep."
I kiss his lips faintly, "I love you, Luke."
"We'll get through this babe."
" I know," I grasp his hands and lace our fingers together, "we just have to talk more."
"Mmm...." he moans as my fingers grab him through his jeans.
I pull his zipper down and reach inside his pants, "Do you feel lucky today, punk?"