I wanted to do it. I wanted to look him in the face and tell him to get his crap and get out.

I wanted to push him out of my life because I know that I just make him miserable. He deserves to be happy. The only way to get rid of him would be to break his heart completely, to shatter him into pieces small enough for me to sweep out of the door. Then he could pick himself up and put himself back together. But I would be gone, out of his life, and he could find someone to make him happy.

But then he came in and looked at me with those annoying wide eyes, bony arms around my waist. Filling with predictable tears and limp trembling, just signaling that an explosion was inevitable. Sure enough, there came the tears and the screams.

"You're everything to me. Please don't turn me away."
"Yuki, I don't care if you think there's something wrong with you. I don't think so."
"And it's all I want. It's all I need."
"I love you."
"It should be so easy for you to just find someone else. I wouldn't live through it though. I really would die."
"Thank you. Yuki. For loving me, no matter how annoying and immature I am. You're the best."
"Do you need me?"

Yes, I need you.

It's like I force myself to live one of my own novels when he acts that way. Because for some reason, those tears made his eyes shine brighter, and I could have stared into them forever. His trembling limp was swollen from biting, pink, and delicious looking. I wanted it between mine. His arms were soft and supple, perfectly molded and around me firmly. Everything about him screamed perfection.

Do you need me?

You little punk. He knows the answer, but he likes to ask. I suppose I understand. I do the same thing. We all need to be reassured, no matter how useless it is in the long run.

So, I couldn't kick him out. I could only grab him and put him in my lap so that we could sit together. He doesn't know what he does to me... he doesn't believe that he affects me as he does. I suppose this is my fault since I am so good at hiding everything.

It had been over a day; he had left angry. I was hungry for him... a full body desire to consume and own him. But, I took it slow, knowing he needed some measure of sweetness. Physical sensation to match the confessions he had managed to force out of me with that beautiful, full lipped pout of his.

Boyish hips swung to meet mine, hands trembling against my shoulders and back. Breathing from the mouth, tongue in the corner of his lips as if he were concentrating. Eyes slammed shut, a look of pain. Thighs caressing my hips, a sign of his physical agitation, the coiling pressure and pain building that I would release when I felt the time was right.

I found myself watching all of this, admiring. And there's a strange pride in knowing all of that belongs to me.

I won't tell him this, I don't want his head to get any bigger. Too big, and it might not be so pretty anymore.