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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The House Always Wins - 34. Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

I stared at him for a long time, not knowing what to say. Then I shook my head, which made him frown again.

"No...what do you mean no?"

"It's impossible," I managed to say.

"What's impossible? That I want you to stay? No it's not. These past few weeks...I've felt more alive than I have ever felt in my entire life.
That's not impossible; that's great."

"Michael... I'm nothing more than an illusion. You know that. You're paying me to play your boyfriend."

"So? I won't pay you, then," he said, smiling. "Problem solved." I'll buy a condo, set it all up. You'll never have to work."
Was he pulling a Richard Gere on me? Set me up in a place of his choosing, so I'd be on-hand for whenever he wanted sex?

"Condo...?" I echoed, flabbergasted.

"Fine, a house then. As big as you want, you can even get the two cats as long as I get a dog; I want a dog."
He snickered when I frowned, mistaking it for me frowning on the dog part.

"I'm just not a pussy-person."

"So not funny. Michael, what if I don't want to stay?"

"Right; so when you told me, just a few hours ago, that you love me..." he said, his voice trailing. “That was a lie? I don’t buy that, not even for a second.”
I what!

Oh man, so that's why he said I gave him the right to ask me all those questions. How the hell could I take that back without looking stupid?

"I was drunk," I replied weakly. "I didn't mean it."
He pushed me against the cold wall and I gasped because of it.

"Are you telling me that you don't love me?"
His voice sounded low and dangerously calm and one look into his eyes told me to either speak the truth or face the consequences, and the latter wouldn't be pretty.

"No."
I swallowed difficultly. There. I wasn't drunk; now he knew.

"So you do love me?"
I nodded hesitantly. Damnit.

"Say it."
I bit my lower lip and looked away, or tried to; he simply took my jaw and gently forced me to look at him.
"Say it," he whispered.

I said it, softly.

"Then what is the problem here, Jason?"
The problem?

You don't love me! That's the problem!

If he'd only say it, just once; I'd be content with that and I'd do anything he'd want me to do. He'd have a hard time getting rid of me, ever again! But if I told him that, he'd just say it, I knew he would.

"Jason?"
I looked up.

"What's the problem? I thought you'd be happy; we don’t have to lie anymore. It’s real now…"
He kissed me, soft and gentle, then increased it rapidly towards passionate as he tried to evoke a reaction from me. When I finally did, he lifted his head and smiled.
"You don't have to say anything, I know it's overwhelming. Let's just...be together again," he whispered, "and show it."

**********

Dear diary.

Help.

**********

I was laying on the bed, naked, writing and thinking. Michael had gone out for a little while because of some emergency that needed his attention.

I was exhausted, emotionally and physically.

**********

Michael knows, and we've been in bed for three hours as a result. He demanded all of me, my thoughts, my body... four times, unprotected. I felt it at times, felt him, basically, drawing everything out of me. What I felt, what I wanted; everything. He just took it.

Hell, we didn’t even use condoms, not even once.

**********

I frowned, recalling one of our first conversations about unprotected sex. What was it that he'd said? ‘It feels more real, and it deepens the bond you have with your partner.'

**********

To me, it's definitely true. It did feel special when I felt him come, or when I knew he was about to; enveloping him with my own body, containing him inside of me, causing him to spill, and milking him. It's like carrying a piece of him with me, even when he's not here. It does feel special.

It's weird, writing this. It sounds and reads pornographic but it really isn't meant that way, and it doesn't feel like that.

At times, I swear I thought he was trying to show me something, that he did love me on some small level. But it's wishful thinking on my part, I guess.

Would've been a nice thought, like... emotionally he'd reached the limit of expressing love, so his body took over and spouted that excess love in the form of his semen. The ultimate. Touchable love.

How I wish. But it's not love for him; it's pure lust.

**********

I read what I had written down and sighed. If anyone ever read this, I'd feel embarrassed. But it was the way I felt.

I closed the diary and hid it in my backpack; I'd get rid of it soon.

Edited somewhat better. This one also had scenes where the chars, I swear, must've been octopus's, lol! Hands everywhere. ;)
andr0gene 2004-Present
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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