Bad Wrong Things

by C.P. Harris

Clint and I were like hot oil kissing water. Gasoline crooking its finger at an open flame. We came together like animals in heat, marking and pissing over our territory. And love had everything, yet nothing, to do with it.

I stood there confident in knowing that the worst mistake I’d ever taken part in was the best decision of my life.

“Promise me. And if you can’t promise me all those things, then please, lie to me.” Never breaking promises was a cardinal rule ingrained in me, and I didn’t want to lock myself into saying something I’d regret come escape time. “Yes, you fucking own me, Clint.” I gave him a different truth. It was the best I could do. “And no one fucks me like you do.” I scraped a nail along his jaw. “I’ve missed you so much I’ve gone blind. Feeling my way through life. My senses are fucked, Clint. Nothing looks the same since you, nothing smells or tastes the same. The world is bland.” But I can’t stay.

No never stopped us. Especially not after we’d decided that turning ourselves into monsters would be the only way to cope with the pain. To be more deserving of it.

Clint petitioned the court for legal guardianship and won. Mom didn’t even put up a fight. Finally, I was his, and he was mine.

Clint didn’t love me in the way I loved him, and therefore, he’d never truly see me because there’d always be a part of me hidden from him. The part that wanted us writhing in the pit of our ugly because I wanted him too much to ever settle for something as superficial as pleasant with him. Fuck pleasant. I wanted the kind of passion that left us standing in a pile of rubble.

“You being territorial over me feeds my need to be loved or some shit.”

Clint was rusty when it came to battles of the heart. Even worse, he was inexperienced and sheltered. Living in fear of living would do that to anyone. But the war on love was a battle I’d been fighting alone for years. In this, age didn’t mean a thing. It didn’t give Clint the upper hand. If anything, it would leave him floundering in need of something to uphold him. I’d be that for him, because in this, I was the one too old for him. Clint had nothing on me. Operation get Clint to fuck me and fall in love was in full effect.

“I fucking love you, Clint. And if you’re brave enough to let me show you, I promise I’ll never stop.”

“How can you be so sure you’re in love with me?” “Because it’s been six years. That’s seventy-two months, one-hundred and ninety-two hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-eight seconds, and I still haven’t been able to talk myself out of it. I give up. Tell me you’ll throw in the towel, too.”

“The mouth and the heart are connected. That’s why words hurt. I’d never give either to anyone but you.”

“Promise me I won’t regret this, Raven.” “I promise,” he said, placing a hand over my heart. And Millers don’t break promises.

“When the curve of your neck stopped being just the curve of your neck. When it became a place I wanted to bury my troubles away in. A place I hungered to breathe from. When the sun in my eyes stopped being a simple annoyance, but a plot of the universe to keep me from gazing at you. When seeing you do what you love stopped only being an inspiration of pride, but also an inspiration for my attraction.”

“I hate that others have been here,” I said. “That out there, right now, someone’s remembering you were the best fuck of their life.”

“The size of your dick has been scaring the shit out of me for years, Clint. I wanted to be good for you, the best you’d ever had. I wanted to take all of you. Your balls are pretty big, too,” I added, and he soothed a hand up and down my spandex-encased cock as he listened. “My ass disappears in your hands, your fingers take my throat with room to spare, and my mouth can barely accommodate your tongue.” I shook my head in wonder. “I don’t know where they found the parts to build you, but I didn’t have anything to fear because they fit perfectly inside me. I was made for you. To take you. To handle you taking me. You’re larger than life, Clint. In every fucking way.”

You’re the one I’ll be thinking of the whole time I’m there. You’re the one that’s gonna hold my heart hostage here until I return my body as ransom. Now stop fighting me. And don’t ever walk away from me again.”

“Remind me again that I’m not alone in this,” he said breathily. “You’re not alone, Clint. Remember, I was here first.” I loved you first. I wanted you first. I went insane first.

No one knew me better than me, and I wore my trauma like a badge of honor because if life didn’t hurt sometimes, we wouldn’t have a frame of reference when things were going good. I didn’t want to be fixed, I wanted to be loved for my brokenness.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t fallen for me. I was at my breaking point with loving you.”

“Because love doesn’t waver with moods, Clint. It doesn’t question or doubt its existence. It isn’t based on whether or not the world around it will be accepting. And it doesn’t only want its presence felt when it needs something to fuck! Believe me, I know.”

“Bad things happen to me sometimes, and good things are taken away because of it. I just don’t know if you’re the good thing taken, or the bad-wrong-thing that’s happened to me.”

“I promise to never waste another minute of our lives on what-ifs. I’m going to love you for however long I’m privileged to do so, and you’ll let me because I don’t plan on giving you a choice in the matter.”