by Annabeth Leong
There seems to have been something of a flash fiction theme going on, so I guess I’ll go with it.
***
Deeds Without Words
She didn’t like it when people said it had been a long time because to her that came off sounding cute and falsely modest, as if it was possible to still be demure, at this age, even while asking for more fingers in the ass.
But it had been a long time, whether she wanted to say so or not. She’d forgotten how greedy she could get, the unbearable wanting that made her say harder long past the apparent limits of her body.
She’d let a long time pass because for a while it had been impossible to say yes, but now that she’d started again, on this night, with this person she barely knew, it seemed as if yes was just about all she could say.
She got fucked hard, in the ass and everywhere else, with everything it occurred to her lover to put inside her. She got fucked until she understood that taking it wasn’t just about being a series of open holes. It could also be about draining the other person dry, reducing her lover to a shaking, straining, inarticulate mess.
When they finally stopped what they’d been doing, she felt separated into layers by all the fucking. One body, limp on a bed. One mind, blessedly still. One soul, flying high on everything she’d just taken.
The other person in the room seemed to exist only as gasping breath and lingering ecstatic soreness.
Then they pushed up onto one elbow. “It’s late,” they said. “I’ve got to get back to the dorm.”
“The dorm?” She echoed the words dumbly.
“Yeah. I have class in the morning.”
“Christ! How old are you?”
The lopsided grin that had made her say yes in the first place. “I’m legal. Do we need to say anything more than that?”
No. Words would have made this all so terribly awkward. She didn’t want to get self-conscious and start making weird jokes about decades-old bands and her own wrinkles.
She flopped onto her back on her bed, received a kiss on the forehead, and basked in the sweat-soaked aftermath.
Cool twist, Annabeth. Well done! Lots more in there than those few words would suggest.
ReplyDeleteThank you! I enjoyed writing this one! :D
DeleteLove this image!!
ReplyDeleteWhen they finally stopped what they’d been doing, she felt separated into layers by all the fucking. One body, limp on a bed. One mind, blessedly still. One soul, flying high on everything she’d just taken.
Thank you! I was pleased with it, too. That's a thing I've experienced a few times and really wanted to describe.
DeleteCool! Now I'm trying to think if I ever experience anything like this. I guess that during intercourse, especially during and right before climax, my body seems to be on autopilot while my mind bounces hither and yon(i). I'm guessing that's fairly common, and it's not as interesting as your club sandwich with three layers. I'm not sure I have a soul, exactly, but I have some sort of core of emotions, morality, libido, and ego that I'll call my "heart." That part of me does generally feel "high" afterward, but I think by that time the mind and body have begun to reunite. So maybe I'm like a sandwich where one takes the middle out and eats it last.
DeleteI love the insight about the way "taking it" applies to both sides of the equation. The whole story has an elegant balance.
ReplyDeleteGlad you think so! I've thought a lot about how to think about sex in a way that's hot, but also doesn't turn the imagery into some sort of "women are destined to bottom" thing. I was trying to write about "taking it" in a way that preserved power on both sides.
DeleteInsightful and intense, Annabeth. But you confused me with this:
ReplyDeleteThen they pushed up onto one elbow. “It’s late,” they said.
I thought - Was there more than one person she was fucking?
Otherwise, a wonderful piece!
"They" as a substitute for specifying gender of an individual has become pretty mainstream these days. But your comment did make me envision two people pushing up onto a single elbow, which was kind of mind-blowing.
DeleteThanks, Lisabet! Glad you like the story!
DeleteI think I'll keep "they" as is, because to me it's one of the main signals of the age gap in the story. I'm sure there are people of all ages who identify as "they," but I think it is particularly common and accepted among younger queer people. To me, the pronoun helps lay the groundwork for the story's twist.