Warnings: M/M, slash
Raiting: All over NC-17
Summary: Given the chance, would you erase someone from your mind?
Feedback: Please do. Keeps the Muse working.
“Would you like to come back to mine?” He asks, with innocence in his voice. We both know it’s not innocent what he is suggesting, but the way he says it makes it sound like almost virginal.
I bet he can say that sentence to me a million times and it will always sound the same. Pure.
He brushes his lips against mine, and I feel like I've never kissed another. No one makes me tingle inside like he does. The way his eyes penetrate my soul makes me realize that he feels the same.
Nothing in this makes sense. Nothing. To meet a total stranger in a train, run on the beach for a while and to claim the person as your soul mate, it makes no sense and I am usually a very sensible person. Boring, if you may.
Today I toss all reason aside, and let this incredible creature seduce me with his life force, with his passion, his tender hands that gently rub my neck as his swollen, full lips press against mine.
“Would you come back to mine?”
Almost biblical, if you may.
He pushes me against the wall, laughing, his lips travel down my throat drawing gasps through mine. I completely surrender to this creature, this beautiful work of art who blows my mind away, makes me beg for things I don't think I ever dared to want before.
I let him unbutton my shirt and feel his teeth on my exposed flesh. His shirt lay on the floor, when he took it off I have no idea. My eyes are a blur from the desire alighted in me by this God-like being, my heart beating like a drum.
I swear he can hear its beats through my flesh.
His fingers stroke my stomach, gently, then more demanding. I feel him unbuttoning my jeans, and grab him so tightly that I'm afraid my fingers are dipping into his shoulders and make marks on that delicate skin. He hums in my ear as his fingers wrap around my member, stroking it gently, slowly.
I don't know what’s wrong with me, but I've never felt this free, this alive. I moan shamelessly into his ear and he grants me a smile, while his hand works my achingly hard shaft. I kiss him with passion I didn't even know existed in me.
I know what is going to happen if he continues. I plead him not to grant me release yet, I want to prolong it as long as possible, to enjoy this moment and this heavenly creature like tomorrow never came. But he is determined to force me over the edge, and his hands worked well on me.
The telephone rang a couple of times, but he chose to ignore it.
“Ignore it.” He says, grinning against my cheek as he’s forcing me towards bliss. “Let the answering machine take it.”
I barely hear the ringing, apart from the ringing in my ears, as my release was so close I could feel it rumbling in my crouch.
“Hi, this is Orli. I'm not in at the moment, so just leave me a message and I'll get back to you!”
“Hello? Mr. Bloom? You probably don't remember me, or should I say, you definitely don't remember me, but my name’s Liv, and I work for a company called Voltaine. We specialize in… well, there really is no subtle way of saying this. A few weeks ago you came to us wanting to erase one Viggo Mortensen from your memory. I have not peeked into your file but as I understood it you two used to be lovers. You wished to erase everything of that time from your memory so you could move on. I used to work for Voltaine, but I found out today that they have tampered with my memory as well, and I now believe no-one should erase any kind of memories from their minds.”
“So, I have sent you your file. It should be with you in a couple of days. I hope that it will make you realize that even painful memories are worth keeping, if not for anything else, than to stop us from repeating the mistakes we have done in the past.”
“Goodbye Mr. Bloom.”
Orlando’s hand had stopped its stroking, and I had turned from hot to absolute coldness. I met the youngsters’ eyes, and the warm light that had lit them before had changed into perfect horror.
“Is this a joke of some sort?” His voice was as cold as ice.
“I have absolutely no idea what they are on about.”
“I think you should leave.”
At the hotel, the porter told me I had received a message from Mr. Karl Urban, who wanted me to call him back as soon as possible.
“It was regarding a company called Voltaine.”
I could not speak for hours. There was absolutely no way of describing this feeling, this absolute horror I felt.
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
What had happened between us, that had scarred us so deeply that even erasing our memories didn't allow us to forget?