Through His Eyes

“I want to fuck you. But I don’t want to fuck with you.”

“Nice line there,” she smiled.

A wry grin spread over his lips, “Isn’t it though, I’ve been practicing it.”

His fingers reached out and touched hers hugging her coffee cup. She pulled away slightly and sighed.

“Jaq,” he searched for the words, cursing his inability to express himself, “I’m as new to this as you are.”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, and looked away, out the window at the blackbird, which had set up residence in the garden.

They had known each other forever, or at least that’s how it felt. Colleagues for years, they had hit it off from day one. Their naturally flirtatious personalities just clicked. Their work styles complimented each other too; him – calm, patient, taking his time to get things just so, her – fast, creative, eager to get things done. They balanced each other out and made a good team. He was her safety net, she was his caffeine shot. It worked.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, “This is a mess.”

“You think falling for you was in my plan?” he replied, not angry, but frustrated. Frustrated at the situation they found themselves in. Frustrated she couldn’t accept what he was offering her. Frustrated at her lack of self confidence.

A tear trickled down her cheek and she impatiently wiped it away with her sleeve, rolling her eyes at her own lack of control.

“Hey now,” his hand cupped her chin, gently forcing her to look at him, “We can work this out. I don’t know how yet, but we can.”

He rubbed his stubble, “Look, I don’t ever want to force you into anything. I’ll go at your pace. Even if nothing ever happens, I’m here,” he said, knowing in his heart that he meant it but that he wanted her in every way possible.

He wanted her mind; he loved how it worked, so sharp and quirky and so different to his. He wanted her body, god how he wanted her body; her curves, her softness. He wanted to kiss her until she begged for breath, taste her skin, inhale the scent of her hair. He wanted to see her naked and take pleasure in her. He wanted to feel her move beneath him as he fucked her. He wanted to hear her moan his name. He wanted to drive her to the edge of orgasm over and over until she wept, pleading for release and then start all over again. He could never tire of her, that much he knew.

But she was still unsure. Where she saw only her flaws, he saw beauty, fragility, vulnerability. She couldn’t believe what he said he saw in her. He feared she never would. He struggled to imagine how he could change her view of herself. How could he make her trust that it was her he wanted, just as she was, right there in front of him – hair unbrushed, mascara blurred, lips chapped from her habit of chewing on them.

“Give me time?” she asked, another tear ran down her face. His fingers wiped it away and stroked her wet cheek.

“All the time you need, little one. All the time in the world.”

But deep inside… he wondered.

💋

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