Short Story

What started with the intent to be nothing more than a peck soon became a total makeout session. By the time he’d carried me to the bedroom, we were both rock hard and full of desire. Before letting myself sleep, we got intimate.

“Now I will ask you again. Do you understand me? Don’t make me ask you again.” I felt my eyes squint as I gave him an evil look. The man I was currently talking to was at least a foot shorter than I was and I had to look downward just to be able to get my point across.

It was such a comforting smile, and so persuasive that you believed him instantly. “I can’t leave you all alone, like mom and dad did. I promise I’ll come back.” You watched him leave, your smile never faltering. He’ll be back.

I examined him as we stood facing one another. He stood over a head taller. His golden spirals fell upon his muscled shoulder as they rippled around his square face but, his eyes were his most striking feature as they were iridescent with his

Now that he was closer I could make out details of his face. Like the *light shade of brown that was his hair and how bright his green eyes were. All in all he was attractive, alarmingly so to be honest.

His lips landed roughly on yours, stealing the air from your lungs and leaving your mind empty, devoid of all thoughts except one. Your hands tangled in his thick hair, tugging as you felt your body burn with sudden heat. His teeth nipped roughly at your neck before his lips lavished it with attention, making your body demand his. You could feel his smirk against your skin and you sighed in sweet resignation. You hadn't seen him in three days and it looked like he had missed you as much as you had missed him.

arm pit and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s get the hell outta here,” I

You were yelling at him as his body enveloped yours, hugging you tightly to him and the skin on skin contact made you heat up in more ways than you already were as you felt the warmness of his skin and you feel like you're gonna have a great stroke any minute.

"It's not that I don't want too, I just..." I tried to explain what was going on in my head, but I couldn't find the right words. I searched for something to say, but all that came out of my mouth were mumbles and incoherent

“It is not yet daybreak… after I fall asleep, you can get up.” His presence was comforting, the scent of him, assuring, his arms strong and virile as they held me near.

Millie Larson leaned against the counter, waiting for her mentor to wrap up his conversation with a friend. She pulled out her phone, glanced at the time and decided to review the notes that she'd taken during the interview with the captain. She was the lucky reporter chosen to work on the serial arsonist case and she didn't want to disappoint anyone. An immense feeling of pride stuck with her as she scrolled through her writing, her mind already mentally planning the story. The ding of an elevator made her glance up from her phone. The doors opened to reveal a middle aged woman walking towards the lobby, with a swift stride, full of purpose. Her high heels clicked on the tiles as she made her way closer. Millie heard the officer behind

“W-what?” I stuttered. I was mostly scared that she heard it. She told me I wasn't in any trouble, but I was just scared of what might happen. “He said it, not me!” I lied.

You quickly glanced at your partner. To your relief, he was still asleep. As carefully and quietly as you could, you sat up and got out of bed. You tiptoed across the floor boards, making sure to avoid the ones that creaked under pressure. You made it to the door and slipped out into the hallway. The sound of that tiny muffled cry egged you onward.

There we were: a dilapidated bench in Parc Bryn Cegin, myself only a haircut and a hip transplant from my eighteen-year-old self, and Kenny, portly and bald from head to toe, resembling the Michelin man or maybe an alopeciac. Both of us were still in our all-blacks, with matching hand-carved oak boxes clenched between our thighs.

You felt weird basking under the artificial light of the school director’s— more specifically Mari’s— office so late into the night. She’s stayed late at school her fair share of times, both for Aqours practice sessions as well as for swim club meetings. But as she watched the clock strike half-past one at night, You couldn’t help but feel as though she was present in another world. She leaned on the bookcase behind her, seated on the wooden floor.