My hand fell to the pain in my head. The headache I had was killing me, and it was a sure sign that I was hungover. I let my hand slide down my face as I sat up, the blankets of a strange bed falling off my chest as I did so.

Where the hell am I? I wondered in my foggy state. I tried to grasp the memories of the night before, but I had no success. Everything was so blurry, and I couldn’t really think past the pulsing migraine.

I threw my hands back in a stretch to wake myself up, but I was incredibly alarmed to hear a grunt of pain exerted by the object beside me. That seemed to wake me up right away. My eyes shot open, and I whirled around to face the strangely sentient being beside me.

"What the hell, John?” he whined.

"God, I am so sorry!" I apologized, reaching out to him in the dark.

I heard clicking for a moment before the kerosene lamp on his bedside table ignited. Light flooded the room, revealing Tom shirtless and holding his nose. I found slight amusement in his pain, but all my laughter disappeared as my eyes traveled farther down.

His chest was absolutely covered in hickeys.

I stared, shocked for a moment before it all came back in a rush.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Last night

My hands gripped his back tighter as Tom's lips traveled up my neck. My breathing was fast, but my heart was faster, and my stomach felt so queasy.

"Tom," I panted.

I felt him smirk against my skin.

Suddenly, he stopped to grab my hand, and he dragged me out the door of the bar. I was tripping and stumbling after him, hardly keeping myself on my feet but managing nonetheless. He led me into a small building down the street from Pen Ink's and pulled me up the stairs and around the corner to a door. He fumbled with the keys for a second before inserting one into the lock and throwing the door open. I was immediately yanked inside and pushed up against the wall as he attacked my lips with his.

I had never felt more alive. I was so alive, alive, alive. And it burned.

I slid my hands through his soft hair and pulled just a bit so that his mouth hung open enough to push my tongue in. Thomas was shocked at the movement, but he didn’t try to stop me, so I let myself explore everywhere as I massaged his tongue with mine. Then, I felt one of his legs slide between my thighs, and my mouth dropped to his chin as I let out a breathy moan.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

All I remember after that was being picked up by my waist and carried somewhere. Best guess: the bedroom.

The realization of what had happened—the meaning of what had happened—was almost incomprehensible to me. I was overwhelmed with so many emotions that I just went numb instead. It didn’t make any sense to me. I didn’t want it to make any sense. I didn’t want to face what had happened.

"If anything, you owe me an apology for that," Tom said laughing.

"Did I do that?" I asked, but I already knew the answer; I just didn't want to believe it.

I needed to leave. I needed to go. This wasn't right. Nothing about this was right.

"No, Lincoln did,” he replied sarcastically. I didn't laugh.

"I have to go," I said quickly, scrambling off the bed to find my clothes. I grabbed my trousers off the ground and tried to pull them over my legs still searching for my shirt and shoes. These damned pants won't cooperate, I mentally cursed them while doing a weird jumping motion to get them on. And where the hell is my fucking shirt?

"The rest is in the hall," I heard from behind me.

I stopped, unable to just ignore him any longer. All the emotions were just boiling inside me, and I just had to scream; I had to do something because this was all his fault. That motherfucker was going to pay hell.

I spun around and faced him, fuming and pointing my finger at him, "You! This is your fault. You disgust me.”

I opened my mouth to say more, but I couldn't even think of the words to use to describe my unfathomable hatred for that scum. He tried to walk towards me, and I noticed his limp, which only made me cringe in horror. I dropped my hand and turned back to storm down the hall. 

No, not this. I would trade my soul to get rid of this. This disgusting fairy and his skilamalinkish ways. Fuck it. Fuck it all.

"John, you didn't try to stop me," Thomas tried to reason, making me double back around.

"No, shut the fuck up. You cannot blame this on me. I was drunk. You got me drunk! I can't even tell you how much I hate you. You think you're so smooth, going around and hooking up with whatever guy you can get to a bar. I knew it, and all I cared about was proving my mother wrong. Well, here I am! Spite me, bitch," I yelled at him.

That bastard thinks he can just take advantage of me. That ugly crone was right all along. I’m not going to tell her that of course, but to think that she actually gave me good advice for once...

"John, now, thi—”

I cut him off with a punch to the jaw. I didn’t think I was a particularly violent person, but I wasn't in control right now. It was like my body had turned into an engine, just barreling over tracks at full speed. I spat at his feet and walked off to find my shirt.

It was in the hall like he had said, which only annoyed me further. I picked it up without stopping and started buttoning it up as I walked. I only slowed down to retrieve my vest from the floor of his foyer. I moved to get my shoes from the floor when I saw Thomas leaning against the door to the hall, staring at me as I gathered my belongings.

"Normally, I would chase you down to convince you that it wasn't all that bad, but after last night, I am in no condition to do so," he commented, smoothly raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut it, Romeo," I snorted, slipping my shoes on. I'd had enough of his bullshit. I marched to the door and tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Of course, it was.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, looking back at Tom who was dangling a key from his finger.

"Now, who would have thought?” he jeered.

"Just open the goddamn door."

He tsked and hobbled over, pushing me into the door and hovering his lips right over mine. I tried to turn my head away, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. He was standing so close, and I just wanted him to...

I heard the door click open, and instantly, I pushed him back and ran out.

"Until next time, love," I heard him call after me.

Fuck him.

I walked down the street and shivered in the cold night air. I put my hands on my arms and rubbed them up and down, realizing that my coat had been left at the bar. I pushed my head down and walked faster.

When I finally reached the muddy building, I was exhausted. I dragged myself up the wooden stairs to my mother's flat and opened the door gently. I tried to quietly tip-toe to my room, but about two feet from the door to my bedroom, a flame sprung to life in one of the lamps, illuminating the face of my dreaded mother.

"And where were you?" she interrogated me.

"I walked a lady home," I replied quick-witted.

"At two in the morning?"

My lie was not as fool-proof as I had thought. No woman stays out until two unless she’s doing something heinous and scandalous—something that I would have hated to take a part in. Now, you may be thinking, ‘But you did take part in something promiscuous.’ Okay, well, I thought that that was different.

"Where were you?" Ma pushed.

"It doesn't concern you," I retorted. "Who's to say there wasn't a lady. Perhaps I did meet someone. Jammiest bit of jam, if I do say so myself. You couldn’t possibly know."

Then with that, I turned into my bedroom and slammed the door. She could never know she was right. I mean, she obviously already knew she was right, but I wasn't about to admit it to her. I wasn’t about to admit defeat.

———————

Thomas's POV

———————

They always do that. Can't they realize that they had wanted it too? He remembered. I saw it in his eyes. He liked it. Hell, I liked it. Well, at the moment I don't. My hips ache and I have two bruises in the shape of hands imprinted on my waist. It was definitely worth it though. The pain is nothing compared to him. To John.

John, such a simple name. Maybe I could 'run into him' at Pen Ink's. After all, I knew this would happen, so I left our jackets. He'll have to go back. He has to. I can't give up on him. Not just yet. I don't want to. He's not like them. Not like the men who cheat on their wives and put me through pain to dump me on the street. The ones who tell me I'm worthless even when they want the same thing.

He couldn't give up on me yet. No, not yet. I won’t give up on him.

What am I saying? He never believed. I'm back where I started, hopelessly in love with a man. A man who slept with me drunkenly for fuck's sake. But I won’t give up, so here I am, outside his apartment.

I had to wait a couple of hours first, of course. It would have been weird to show up at two A.M. to the home of the guy who walked out on me just moments prior. At least, I waited until six.

I hesitantly knock on the wooden door, and a few minutes later, it swings open to reveal the rotten raisin who interrupted John the first time I was here.

"What do you want?” she snaps.

"Can I talk to John?" I ask, rocking on my heels and peeking over her shoulder.

"No," she deadpans, shutting the door, but my foot shoots out and stops it from closing all the way.

"Okay, you obviously don’t understand. I’m going to talk to John," I say, wrapping my hands around the door and pressing all my weight to my hands. I finally pry the door open and hear her fall to the ground. I don’t pass her a single glance though as I step over her legs and walk through the house. There’s only one door closed, so I’m assuming that one is John’s.

I rest my hand on the knob for a moment. Should I really do this? I mean, he did literally run away from me. He probably doesn’t want to see me, but, oh, I just remembered; I don’t care.

He’s going to be mine.

———————

———————

I squinted my eyes and rolled over as my curtains were drawn apart, letting sunlight stream in while I tried to sleep. "Screw you, Ma," I groaned into my pillow.

"Guess again, bastard," I heard a familiar voice say. There was a flutter in my stomach, but I pressed it back. No, I am not a homosexual. Thomas forced me to do that. I was drunk.

Arms wrapped around my waist and threw me on the ground. He wasn’t really helping his case that he wasn’t an asshole. Nobody really likes being tossed out of bed onto the cold hard ground. He was already off to a bad start with whatever he came here for. What did he come for?

"Fuck you as well," I growled, curling up on the floor. I opened my eyes and looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was kneeling beside me with a small grin. Not a happy one, just a mildly amused one.

"Get up," he demanded, and despite the smile on his face, he didn't sound sweet anymore. He wasn't nervous, and he didn't have a dimple.

"No," I replied, shutting my eyes again and turning over.

"Please?” he begged softly. Nicety always got the best of him.

"What do you want?"

"Would you give it a chance?"

"No, fuck you. I'm not one of your cigarette girls.”

"They aren't girls. And if I said please, would you agree? You did before," he reasoned jokingly.

I ignored him though. Well, I tried to until I felt a yank on my shoulder as he flipped me over onto my back. My eyes shot open, and I was met nose-to-nose with Thomas as he pinned me down and straddled me, holding my hands above my head.

His hair almost seemed golden in the early sun, and his eyes glowed passionately. He looked at me as if I was something he wanted to eat, and actually, I think I was okay with that. The sight and feel of his body pressed into mine definitely did nothing to help me resist.

Maybe I should just give in. Maybe I should admit it. Because I’ve never loved a woman, and nothing has ever made me feel like him.

Thomas leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. "Pretty please?"