SPOILERS.
Don't read if you haven't finished the book. (I don't know why you would be reading this fanfic if you haven't read the book, though.)
These characters aren't mine. They belong to (the secretly gay) John Knowles.
He had barely pulled his leg with the cast up onto the bed before I had crawled over him. My hands wrapped around his waist and I buried my face in his lap, shaking from the realizations I had in the past few days.
Leper knew I had tried to kill Finny. I didn't even fully realize I had tried to kill him until Leper said it out loud. I had felt guilty when it had happened, but made myself believe I couldn't hate Finny enough to try and kill him. I had made myself believe it was an accident.
But it wasn't. And Finny was here, his hands running through my hair, over my neck, then shoulders and down to my back, then coming back up to start over again. He was whispering those sweet little nothings to make me feel better, the ones lovers are supposed to say whether or not they help.
The worst part was that I didn't hate myself for doing that. I actually felt proud of myself. I loved to hate Finny. I loved to be the center of attention with him but hated that I had to share, regardless of his part in getting me this attention. I wouldn't be so popular if it wasn't for Finny. I hated I had to depend on him. Jouncing the limb was of my own free will. It was something I never used when I was around Finny.
His hands traveled down my back, but this time they never went to my shoulders and kept going down. I groaned and clenched my hands in his shirt tighter than I had before. His hands were kneading my ass and the inside of my thighs, never quite making it to the place that needed the most attention. My hands started to claw at his back furiously, almost breaking skin.
He might have thought it was because I was still upset over what happened to Leper. He could be thinking I was anxious for what was to come next. Maybe he thought it was because I loved him.
It wasn't any of those things. It was because I hated the control he had over me. I couldn't do a damn thing about it. That made me groan and twist my hands in his shirt as if it were his neck and not his shirt I was wringing.
Finny was going to get what he wanted tonight, and every other night as well.
He pushed at my pajama pants and I lifted my hips, already defeated. I kicked out of my pajamas and did what I always did: give in.
He stroked my length a few times, relieving the pressure a little, but soon pulled his hand away to bring it to my face.
He lifted my chin, my neck straining in the awkward position as he kissed me. I despised kissing him. He was as good at that as he was everything else. I moaned into his mouth, giving him the chance to slip his tongue inside and I bucked against him.
The angle was frustrating me so I pulled myself up his body, making it easier for him to abuse my mouth with his tongue.
Pulling back abruptly, he wasted no time occupying my mouth with something else. He shoved two fingers in my mouth, stroking my tongue and gums with them as I sucked.
I was gone now. Hate, love, lust, passion, apathy, whatever, this feeling needed to go away and maybe this would be the night Finny would do something that would make it go away, permanently. It would at least go away for the night.
His fingers slipped out of my mouth and to my ass. The goose bumps sprang up as soon as he parted my cheeks and slipped both fingers in at the same time.
He watched me amusedly as I rode his fingers shamelessly. It almost seemed as if he knew why I was in the bed with him, why I didn't push him out of a window or suffocate him in his sleep. It seemed like he knew what I thought of him and added another, dry finger.
It burned, no matter how much I tried to think otherwise. His eyes, fingers, body, cast that were all under me and in me seemed to exist to be near me, to torture me.
I woke up the next morning in my own bed, awfully cold regardless of the sunlight streaming into the room's window. I snuck into Finny's bed, wincing just a little at having to move.
I hated him with all my heart but he owned it. It was full of hate, not love, but he still owned it.
DONE
Unbeta-ed. Sorry guys. I know there are a lot of cracked out sentences and a hell of a lot of grammar stuff. Just point it out nicely, kay?
Also, you should realize that porn doesn't come (hehe -perv-) easily for me. It's hard for me to write without blushing (of course, I can read it fine wth). So, my skills in this area are not very advanced. Take pity and give me comments to help it? Please?
This pairing owns my soul.