[CONTENTID2] CHAPTER 8 [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID1]

He continues to ignore me, he takes off the glove and began to kiss my scarred hand. He starts from my palm, kissing the rough skin tenderly. His eyes slowly fluttered closed, his lashes resting on his cheek. I feel heat rising from the tip of my fingers to my face. He moves his lips up to my fingers, kissing and worshiping each tip.

He kissed me so tenderly, I forgot how rough my hand is.

I let out a pathetic whimper, trying to retrieve my hand from him. He opens his eyes and gives me a look that made my heart skips a beat. I gnaw my lower lip, tugging my hand from him but he’s grasping my hand firmly.

“Stop it, Kris,”

He closes his eyes and a stripe from the base of my middle finger to its tip. I let out a moan, my voice sounds distant even to my own ears. He continues his action, he keeps each digit. The sight is disgusting, his act is disgusting yet he looks like he is enjoying it. I don’t know how to feel about the way his velvety tongue brushing against my fingers and palm.

“Kris!!” I cried out.

He stops, giving me an apologetic smile but that’s not enough. I gnaw into my inner cheeks so hard I can almost taste blood in my mouth. A sound of skin against skin resonates through our silence and I can feel heat slowly spreading on my palm after it made contact with his cheek. A thin layer of sweat is forming on my back and on my temples, my breathing is slightly ragged and my face felt hot.

Kris stayed on his knees even after I slapped him. I let out an indignant huff before shoving him out of my way. Even after I reach my apartment, my body is still failing to calm down. I can hear all the blood rushing in my ears and feel the way my lungs expanding and relaxing from all the intense inhaling and exhaling.

What shames me even more is the fact that I needed to after Kris did that to me.

+++

I woke up with a long, horrid gasp from my sleep. My face is burning and my pajama shirt is sticking to my back. As I close my eyes, I make an attempt to even my ragged intakes of air. My heart is ransacking against my ribs, I look around to make sure that I finally woke up.

What happened last night was something that I would like to flush down the toilet—like a dead goldfish. I would never want to keep a dead goldfish floating in my tank. But somehow, my brain disagrees; the images of Kris last night, the way his tongue praising my chafed skin, and the way I came so hard after I touched myself.

Last night was like a dead goldfish; I don’t want it to float in my head.

I swung my legs down and shuffled around to complete my Sunday morning routines; clean around the house. I never really noticed when it started but cleaning has been solace and so after few rounds of thorough cleaning, I took a shower and laze around until I am hungry enough to care.

Even after a round of thorough cleaning, I don’t feel hungry at all. I keep repeating what happened last night with Kris over and over again and I would like to think that my reaction is normal. I am sure other people will react the same way I do; your date your blistered palm, how would you react?

Should I call him?

Should I text him?

Or should I just pretend like nothing happens and avoid him?

The choice avoiding Kris makes me wince, I am not a coward. We’re both grown men and I am sure Kris (and I) will be able to handle this situation maturely. I stare at the blank screen of my phone before deciding that calling him to apologize is the only way to set everything straight between us.

Did I just use the word ‘us’?

“Hello, Kris?”

+++

We decided to meet up after dinner since I won’t eat anything that I didn’t cook by myself and I can’t lie about the fact that I feel nervous. It’s almost like the first date all over again but worse. Kris shows up five minutes after I arrived which is great because I got to p