Work Text:
I'm working once again, working with you this time.
Another mission, another key, another hotel room, another excuse.
Waiting against the wall, face kept stoic, refusing to give too much truth. At least not out here in the open, no where that isn’t just with you.
Just with you and me, and us.
Alone.
You finish paying and I see you walk across my vision, passing ahead in front of me with the key grasped in your hand.
No need for verbal exchanges, you don’t even have to glance at me.
The agreement has already been set.
I’m letting you take the lead this time, and I’ll stick close behind your back, where I can’t be seen.
This is the only time when I’m completely content with being reduced to just your shadow, with letting your presence obscure my own.
The door closes behind us, an entire room ours for the night, completely enclosed from the rest of the world.
No one will bother us here.
No one will look.
We could easily make this shameful, use this opportunity to convince each other to commit yet another sin, something to add to the pile, but we refrain in the name of more innocent desires.
This is our time to use, and it’s brief.
We must use it wisely.
I glance around the space we’ve chosen for the night. In the corner of my vision, I see you doing the same. We’re both avoiding each other’s eyes, keeping ourselves distracted.
It’s always just a little too much at first.
Despite our ever present awareness of the time being plucked from our hands, like the petals of a rose, being left with nothing but its prickling stem, we still give each other a second.
We have yet to find the right way to start these moments. We know how quickly they could end once we do, and we both want this to last.
Neither of us wants any of this to feel rushed, so we wait until it feels right.
My body doesn’t quite conform to that this time, however.
It doesn’t want to wait, not tonight.
It’s beginning again.
My skin is aching, freezing, threatening to crack.
I feel the need coursing, rapidly and hysterically through my veins.
Up my legs and arms, settling deep into my withered heart and leaving behind tremors in its wake.
Permanent impressions, permanent engravings, all biting in ways only your touch could soothe.
The complete fraud of an act that we’ve played up of having nothing but hate for each other falls behind at this moment. It gives way for more honest actions, more honest desires.
A much more genuine emotion takes over me completely now. It all comes in a violently flooding rush.
This feeling and the burning want it brings me is suddenly all I can think of.
It’s painful, but it’s real and it’s honest.
The most I’ll ever allow myself to be.
Only here, only in these temporary rooms, with this temporary relief.
Only with you.
This room, these places, any location we choose is fine. More than fine.
It’s enough.
I'm lying again.
This isn’t the time or the place for deceptions, not when we’re losing hours.
I don’t want to waste this time lying to you, lying to myself, when I could be spending it indulging and drinking in your forgiving existence like the rich wine that it is.
I want to forget for a second.
Forget about the atrocities that I have yet to fully repent for. Atrocities that you’re well aware of and continue to try to forgive.
Forgive or ignore.
Who can really tell the difference now?
I'm sitting at the edge of the bed. Precariously.
I know what I’m really here for, and I know that you feel the same way. This is far from the first time we’ve ended up here, yet doubt still outweighs the reassurance of familiarity.
Your eyes are on me now.
I can feel them on my back, flitting up and down my frame from where you're standing, at the other side of the bed. They fall heavy on the back of my head and now every single one of my senses fades, keeping me locked in the feeling of your eyes on me alone.
I want to turn to you, to see your face, so I do.
I’m free to do that here, to surrender to the craving I feel for your gentle expressions which are sure to promise comfort.
Always promising, and keeping those promises, because it’s in your nature to give.
And mine is to take.
I'm stripping myself of my clothes, taking my coat, my last form of protection, off. There is no need for it here. Not with you, not anymore.
More rustling from your end and I know you’ve taken my movement for the subtle admission that it is. It’s my guilty pleasure and my favorite part of these outings, the fact that I can ask you for anything without having to go through the shame of admitting it out loud.
You don’t even take offense in that reluctance.
You completely understand why it’s there, and take the time to decipher everyone single of my secret tells, just so I can keep my sinful confession silent.
I want nothing between us today, nothing but skin.
We lay back, on the bed and side by side.
Not touching.
Yet.
You’re waiting for my permission. Taking my comfort into consideration even though you already know what I want. I hold out my hand towards yours, giving you the key. That’s enough of a response for you.
I’m letting you in tonight, letting you love me and I’m giving you love in return.
You take my stretched out hand in your own, not a single word spoken, still. Quiet solidarity.
This is what these moments are for, what this secrecy entails.
Moments of patience and giving and taking. Moments of peace.
Moments of love.
All unspoken, but loud all the same. Loudly proclaiming our care in these private spaces, to only ourselves.
Me, loving you, loving me.
Condemned to discretion, because this love isn’t equal, it’s not the same.
My love is seen as sin. The action feels like I’m tainting you, or doing something I shouldn’t, something I should be scorned for.
Your love is redemption. You’re giving me another chance, giving me mercy, and it's worthy of thanks, it’s something to be respected.
But it’s love all the same, shouldn’t that be enough?
Except that it isn’t, and it won’t be. This love isn’t meant to last.
It's shameful, and it’s dirty, not worth exposing.
It’s something we won’t be forgiven for, and we haven’t even done anything too vulgar with this time yet so what’ll happen when we do?
I'm falling back into my habits again, of reflection and doubt, but this isn’t what I’m here for. I have any other day and any other place, the entire rest of the world and it’s time to mull over my own misgivings.
We’re here to love, and nothing else.
I slip my hand out your grasp and roll over so that it’s easier to fall into your arms. Your gentle, warm, indulgent arms. Giving me exactly what I want, what I so desperately desire, even if I don’t deserve it.
The thrumming need in my veins is satiated. The cold of my skin is slowly thawing out, no longer on the verge of cracking. My heart has finally settled. I can feel yours beating next to mine.
This is what makes all of this worth it. This warmth, this peace, this innocent craving to love and be loved in return. To expose yourself and not risk being ridiculed or shamed. To be able to offer that to someone else. To have something pure left to give.
This is all I want, all I ever hoped for and never thought I would have. It’s worth every second spent waiting, and hiding, and coming here and leaving, only to come back again for another fleeting round of this scorned love.
Always hidden, concealed and limited to this brief lapse of time, to these provisional spaces, and never quite enough. It won’t ever be.
Confined to the walls of these hotel rooms, these secret meetings in these secret places, all so very temporary, but it’s ours and it’s real and it’s love.