Preston’s fingers dig into me, owning me, despite the gentle press of his lips. Like he’s fighting something inside of himself. Is he fighting to let himself need me? To accept the comfort I freely offer? He sucks on my bottom lip, brushing my skin with his teeth, with the threat of pain. My hands hang at my sides, clenching and opening. I don’t know what to do with them. Will he let me touch him or will he shove me away? Deciding to take a chance, I place my hands on his, and slowly work my way up to his shoulders, careful to read the way his body tenses and stop when he does. He doesn’t stop
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