Until You (Until #1)

by Briar Prescott

I’m the first one to tell you I have issues. Trust issues. Family issues. Probably a few others I haven’t discovered yet. Which is why I prefer to keep my life as simple and uncomplicated as possible. Until him.

Every life has a before and an after. An invisible line that divides a life into two halves. The before. And the after.

“I’m not, though. Spiderman,” I say in response to Sean’s befuddled expression. “You just said you were Spiderman.” “No. I said I was Peter Parker. He transforms into Spiderman.” “You gonna do a costume change?” Sean asks with raised brows. In an unexpected turn of events, it now seems I’m the overachiever in the costume department. It’s in Sean’s head only, but I’ll take it. “We’ll see where the night takes us,” I say. I’m not planning to come clean. I told the previous guy who asked about my costume that I was dressed as a nudist on strike, so it’s hardly a matter of principle. If Sean here wants to operate under the impression that I’ll pull on a red and blue unitard as the night progresses, I’ll gladly let him.

“You’ve got a nice ass. I’d like to get in there.” Ah, romance. You’re not dead after all.

“What’s with the moth propaganda? No. They’re erratic, hairy, winged psychopaths whose sole mission in life is to fly into your face and traumatize you for years to come.” He presses his lips together and gives an exaggerated shake of his head. “Ah. You’re one of those people.” “Those people?” I ask. “You know, the ones who care about looks. I bet you have nothing against butterflies, do you?”

“My mom… She loved butterflies, so Dad would draw them everywhere for her. Sometimes they’d sit outside on the porch at night, and she’d draw butterflies on Dad’s skin. She said they were her good luck charms.”

“Have you ever wanted something?” He pauses. “Somebody,” he corrects, eyes moving up and down my body with such intensity it makes my skin tingle. “So badly that you can’t fucking think when they’re around?” His voice hitches. Like he’s suddenly very aware there are stakes. High stakes. But he goes on. “And even if you shouldn’t, you can’t stop it? Have you ever wanted somebody so much that your fucking body goes hot all over when you’re around that person? Can’t think clearly. Lie in your bed at night, jerking it until you’re fucking raw? Ever felt like this?”

“I have lube somewhere,” he rasps in between kisses. “But it’s so very far away, and I don’t want to stop what I’m doing, so here’s how it’s gonna go. You’ll hold off until I get myself off on you, and then I’ll jerk you with my cum. How does that sound?” I try to make words, but nothing comes out. In the end, I only manage a nod. “Good boy,” he murmurs into my ear before he bites the lobe.

“Stay?” he whispers into my skin. “You stole my shoes. I kind of have to stay, don’t I?” I glance at him, gaze catching his. “Stay because you want to,” he says softly. In the end, the decision isn’t that difficult. “I’ll stay.”

He slides his palm over my back and leans his forehead against the nape of my neck. “You’re enough,” he says very quietly. “Just you.”

And I don’t expect him to look at me and feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest when he says, “I like us.” “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “I like us, too.”

Life has a funny way of throwing things at you. You go about your days, not bothering anybody. You try to avoid making waves or noise or anything. You just want to get by. Quietly mind your own business. Maybe life’s a bit muted, but you don’t really see it because you don’t know. And then life throws you a curveball. On some random roof, at some random party. Here’s a person who just fits. He’ll seamlessly slot into your life. All his corners match yours. You click. It’s easy. So, fucking easy. It just makes sense. And maybe it’s stupid, but it feels inevitable. Of course you were supposed to meet him. How could you have not? After all, he’s yours. Simple as that.

I’m starting to think my love language does not come in the form of beautiful words and candlelit dinners but well-placed sarcastic remarks and exasperation. Blake has clearly mastered both.

He made me love him. He turned himself into my home. Now he’s gone. And I’m homeless. But life doesn’t stop for a broken heart. So somehow, I keep going.

“What will make you stop?” I ask. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t do this.” “What will make you stop?” I repeat. I have to wait an eternity for the answer. “If you ask me to stop,” he eventually says. Another eternity passes. “Then I’m asking you to stop.”

Jude, I told you once you’ve given me two firsts. Well, I was lying even back then. See, there are a few more I failed to mention. I’m going to fix that now. I have never been caught off guard. Until you. I have never been selfless. Until you. I have never met an unforgettable person. Until you. I have never seen a smile stop the world. Until you. I have never wanted to belong with anybody. Until you. I have never wanted a home. Until you. I have never wanted forever. Until you. I have never had my heart so shamelessly stolen. Until you. I have never understood what people mean when they say it’s better to have loved and lost. Until you. Because it’s been worth it. Because I get to love you. And maybe it won’t be blanket forts and home and growing old together for us. Maybe that’s not the road ahead for you and me. But the highs have been well fucking worth the lowest of lows. At least for me. Since you’re reading this love letter—also my first, by the way—I assume you’ve found the piano. It’s yours. And so is the room. For as long as you want it. And I hope you want it for a long, long time. Because you’re talented, and someone who gets as much joy out of playing as you do should have a piano and a place to play it. Plus, you’re fucking hot when you play. I guess that’s it. You asked me to stop, and I obviously didn’t, but I promise, I will now.

I don’t want big promises or even bigger vows. I want the journey. With him. Together. And when he wraps himself around me and hugs me tightly, it feels like my heart is going to burst. I’ve never felt like this before. Until him.