castles in the snow

We leave that overused little bar at about 5:00 am. He's the last guy I make out with there, one week before it suddenly gets shut down. I sit on top of the bar and he fingers the outside of my damp leggings obsessively while sitting between my legs in a little stool, murmuring things I didnt ask for. The little multicolor lights keep spinning and changing paths on his face and the empty dancefloor (it really is a slow night), and I pull back on his hair and suck a kiss out. I am, of course, drunk out of my mind and I know I shouldn't be doing this, and there are split seconds when I look at him from above, from my angle, his chin resting on my belly, looking up at me with sad eyes, and I can tell he's almost gone, but I brush it off. Call me masochistic, but isn't what I'm already doing where I was supposed to end up in the first place? Destiny is present. I refuse to fight the one moment I have. He keeps violently biting my neck and I keep letting him, I know he needs something to destroy. Our tongues fighting a war, him giving me dark and me giving him a little token of spit for it. Little antonyms cancelling each other out on a Thursday night.

We walk lightly like little drunken elves, waltzing down the streets to the car hand in hand.

"If Im with you I definitely won't kill myself, that I know."

I just smile, because I lack the strength to tell him that I know it won't happen and because I'm a coward. His lies are pretty, anyway. He also seems to think he's telling the truth, or something like that.

"That's it, I am completely commited to you, forever. I am. Do you believe me?"

I just smile and wonder how much I wish it were true and how much I am relieved its not. I look at the paint splattered boots Im wearing, at the nuisance of white little light bulbs leading the way to the end of the night. They're so bright and cheap, just like my city.

He tries to lift me up a few blocks, my legs wrapped around his hips as always, and I pretend I'm not embarrassed about how heavy our history is. We crash into steel boxes on the street, the ones dubbed hazardous and some more innocent ones and on every one of them I sit with legs open and we forget we're on the street and grope some more. After a while, we manage to get to the parking lot and go up a few stories, get into my car. He looks in his pockets and pulls out some dollars and change, throws them in the cup holders beween us. I ignore it and pay the ticket, we pull out. We drive up two streets and then a few blocks to the left, rest right behind his car. 

"Have sex with me."
Little wolf eyes.

"..No. Youre gonna go meet her tomorrow, talk, and then we'll see what happens after that."

"Have sex with me"
His pupils wild with hope. Maybe I am the knife that will cut him loose.

"No..." I say, unsurely. He looks at me, and repeats his declaration.
"Have sex with me."

"...Okay." I go.

His eyes go wide(r).

"Really?"

"Yes" I say, smiling a knowing smile. 

I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

"Okay" he says excitedly, and then, as always, looks into me and says

"Follow me." Always with the emphasis on the end.

The sky is glowing with that annoying shade that teases you when its about to get light but not really. As I drive behind him I can see his red sticker telling me to "eat my own spaceship." Isn't that what I'm doing? I wonder what exactly I am doing, why I'm so excited and try not to think about the next day. I know I'm getting left, in the weirdest of ways. Im the sheep walking straight into the lions den. Why am I so curious to see how it happens?

We get to his house just before dawn breaks. I park behind him and I don't remember anything about getting out of the car, except for smooshed kisses and the mirror inside the elevator on the way up. I tip toe behind him, trying not to wake his sleeping parents. We walk into his room and Im lying down on his shining bed on the 10th floor of a white tower, with all the curtains up and the face of our soon-to-be dictator pitifully looking  down at us. The sky is purple like a bruise as he starts to take off my leggings and underwear. For a second I worry I havent shaved 1) because I really wasnt expecting this and 2) because I try to keep myself from having impulsive sex by making sure Im not that presentable for such occasions. So much for that. 

He kneels beween my legs and pulls at the fabric, looks down at me, and opens my lips. With two fingers he stars to rub my clit in circles. Hes about to stick his whole finger inside me (sticky), but I insist on accelerating the humilliation. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Put a condom on." I say hurriedly.

He obeys, reaches for his drawer, breaks the pack with his teeth and pulls it over his erect dick.

He looks at me again for a second, lying beneath him, and he crouches, like a baby tiger, without losing eye contact. His mouth opens, his tongue rolls out and the tip of it melts against my navel and up, while I watch him in awe. He licks between my breasts and pushes into me as he falls into my mouth. We are looking at each other in the eyes as always, and I know I should feel intense pleasure and a sense of I dont know what but something, and yet I feel nothing. I love him and that makes me inadvertently, completely and irrevocably separate from him. I can't say I'm moving.

"I love you" he says

"I love you, too." I shoot right back, a desperate attempt at crystallizing the moment.

We thrust and stare some more, me, completely alienated and observant, and Im not so sure about him, but maybe both of us are looking down on our bodies awkwardly joining, tsking from the ceiling. I feel disappointed that I can't let go with him, even though I already knew it was too late. I realize that he is fucking his memory of me, 7 years ago, fucking me on my teenage pedestal.

He moves some more on top of me while I watch the movie, and suddenly pulls out, pulling me out of limbo and looking worriedly down at his cock.

"It broke"

"What?" I say

"It broke" hes kneeling, looking at it and me with a confused expression

"Thats never happened to me before. Ever."

We look at each other and he lies down next to me, under the covers. With him out of me, I recover some of my speech skills and try to say this in the most nonchalant way:

"I know what youre thinking, stop"

 (Even though I don't want him to stop, I want him to read into the signs the way I know he is, like the broken condom means we are going to have incredibly crazy and cool and troubled babies.)

He looks at me and nods.

I know he hates this next part, and even though we both know, he still puts his arms around me, his mouth on my forehead and we fall asleep.