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Sexual reproduction.
Sex.
I know the concept - who doesn’t? - we’ve been taught, but I haven’t-
I’ve never felt the urge, never had the desire, never wanted.
Until now.
Zach pins me to the mat, raises his arms in triumph and screams, joyful and rageful, all at the same time, and I feel something, where I shouldn’t feel it.
I know the basics. I know why.
It doesn’t mean that it should happen.
We are destined to reproduce asexually. From test tube to test tube.
But this isn’t reproduction.
My nerves shudder, tight then release, and I want.
I think about it for ages after he clambers off me.
And I can’t seem to do anything about it.
-
I’ve been hiding in my room for hours, it seems, just staring at the ceiling, wanting to feel, but not sure how.
There’s a hammering on my door, all too soon.
“Hi Christopher.” Zach says, as my door slides open to reveal him. He’s got his forearm up on the side of the wall, too casual.
I don’t even know what to say. “...Hi?”
“Can I come in?” He says, and without waiting for an answer pushes through past me and into my room, hitting the ‘door close’ button behind him.
“Yeah. Just. Come in, I guess.” I say, to his back.
“Thanks.” He gazes over at me, and there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes. It’s warm, and dark, and nothing I’ve ever seen from him before.
It makes me want, again.
The blue. It had hidden so much from us. But now, it’s like a piece of gauze has been lifted from my eyes. I know, reasonably, it’s just hormones.
But I don’t care. My heart is hammering. “Zach.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t-” I stop myself. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, what kind of impulse I’m trying to get out. Everything I want to do feels apart of myself, like I’m a different creature inside trying to claw my way out. My skin feels hot. “I don’t… know. What to do.”
He quirks an eyebrow at me. “There’s no guidelines here, Christopher. No rules you gotta follow. Just feel.”
“I don’t… know how.”
“Well someone’s gotta show you then.” He says, and without another word, he strides towards me, faster than I can anticipate.
I step back, almost tripping over my feet, against the wall, anxious and scared, but it’s not a bad fear. It’s anticipatory, and hot, electric between us.
“Didn’t look like this in the films, eh?” He asks, eyes bright, and grips me hard by the hips.
“No.” I gasp, stammering. “No- it- it didn’t.”
Zach laughs, nose pressed to mine, breath coming out in little puffs. “Good.”
And he kisses me, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know if he does either, but none of that matters when it feels like this.
My nerve endings are alight, every movement and moment sending sparks through me. I have no clue what I’m doing, where I should put my hands, where I should hold and grasp and grip, but it doesn’t matter at all.
He bites me on the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder, and I gasp and push back against him. He seems to take it as a challenge, as an invitation for a fight, and I’m more than happy to go along with it.
“Wanna spar?” He sneers, eyes bright and lips kiss-bitten. “Reckon you could beat me now?”
“Yeah.” I launch myself at him, push him, send him stumbling back against my desk. Something goes crashing to the floor, and I don’t care at all.
He grabs me by the neck of my shirt, twisting a clump of material up in his hand and drags me closer, kissing me again, pressure tight around my neck, sparks setting off behind my eyes.
But I don’t let him win. I pull myself away, drag him away from the desk, and with a kick to the back of the knee he’s stumbling and sprawling across my bed, laughing dangerously.
“Finally found a spine, Christopher?” He snarls, eyes dark, and drags me down on top of him.
If I was in another mind, another place, maybe I’d care about his words.
But we’re here, and I don’t. All I want is more of the frantic drag of his body against mine, and the way he’s making me feel. He tears my shirt from my chest, and pushes quick fingers under my waistband.
I moan, choked against his mouth, and he uses the moment to push me back, flip me over, and straddle me. He yanks off his own shirt, looking very pleased with himself.
“Imagine if we were doing this out in the gym.” He sighs, self-satisfied, clearly pleased to be holding the power once more. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sela watching as I held you down, take what’s mine?” He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, and I gasp, horribly aroused and filthily jealous, the imagined images flashing in front of my eyes. “Wanna do it sometime, Christopher?”
I don’t care. I don’t care at all. I just want to feel more , need to feel more. “Shut up.” I grunt. “Stop sitting there.”
“Could just make you wait.”
“Asshole.” I breathe, as he moves again, but too gently. Far too gently.
“You like me controlling you, Chris?” He leans over me, presses his forearm to my neck, not choking, not yet. “You want more of this?”
“Yes, asshole.” I struggle, trying to force him off me, trying to pull him closer, trying to make him do something. “Hurry up.”
“Make me.”
“ Chris.”
“Tell me what you want.” He replies, words liquid and filthy as he presses further down on my throat. “Beg me.”
My silence is clearly enough. He pushes down further and I choke, seeing stars. “Zach.”
“ Beg. ”
At this point it’s not like I can’t. I want this - whatever this is - so much. I need him. “-please.” I gasp, from behind dry lips. I can barely breathe, lights going off in my head, tears springing to my eyes. Everything spins. “Please, Zach.”
“Good.” He hisses, face pressed tightly against mine. “Good.”
And then he lets go, and I can breathe again. The resulting rush of air sends me even higher, makes my head even fuzzier. My vision swims, a little, and he kisses me again.
“Bet you wouldn’t get this with Sela.” He grunts, pressing his head to my neck, and the worst thing is that I can’t even disagree.
I just stop thinking and let myself feel.
Everything else can wait.