Post Breakup Sex

by Sibylla Matilde

  I breathed against her forehead, overcome with the awareness, with the sensuality and emotion of the moment. My heart pounded. My throat felt tight and my eyes burned with tears. I thought for a second that I was going to bawl like a girl. I hadn’t felt anything so powerful since my mom died.

  Sophie breathed in my skin and trailed her fingertips along my shoulders. I had wrapped myself around her as she lay cradled beneath me, both of us floating in the consummation of pure reverence. I’d never experienced anything that profound. Like a pagan absolution, love held us tight in a solemn bond that spoke of forgiveness and devotion and fidelity.

  I’d whispered it so many times, against her skin and against her lips, but I couldn’t stop the exhausted sigh as the haze of our passion began to ebb away.

  “I love you, Soph.”

  And her whispered breath, a soothing caress over all the scars of our healing heartache.

  “I love you, Bran.”

  The delicate brush of fine fingertips feathered along my jaw, waking me. As I opened my eyes to the dim, pale predawn, I saw Sophie studying me. She lay in my arms, barely inches away, watching the path of her fingers as they trailed over my ink. She glanced up and saw my eyes on her.

  “When I first woke up,” she said in a low whisper, “I thought I was dreaming. To be this close to you. To be in your arms.” She tucked her head under my chin, snuggling against my bare chest. “I never thought I’d have this again.”

  “Me either,” I murmured, closing my eyes. My arms tightened around her as I just savored the quiet and the dark and the feel of her skin. Skimming my hand along her shoulder, gently caressing the silky smooth texture. “Having you here in the flesh. In my bed. I laid here every night thinking about you. Missing you.”

  She kissed my bicep, molding herself deeper into my arms. “I missed you more. I’m sure of it.”

  “Impossible.” I whispered into her hair. My eyes closed as I remembered what she’d said last night. “Are you still leaving, Sophie?”

  She pulled back and looked up at me with a troubled expression. Swallowing hard, her voice low and broken, she spoke. “I don’t know what to do. I need to know I can take care of myself. I need to figure out who I am. I’ve always just been who other people wanted me to be.”

  “You don’t have to leave, though. You’d have a job here. I’m sure Lily would take you back in a heartbeat.”

  Sophie shook her head. “I kind of bailed on her, Bran.”

  “I’m pretty sure she understands why. She will barely talk to me except to tell me what a fuck up I am.” I twisted my lips. “Every now and then, I’d ask about you, and she’d just tell me to fuck off.”

  “She wouldn’t have much to share. I haven’t seen her since that… that awful night. I called her the next day to let her know I couldn’t come back. I didn’t even tell her why.”

  “She knew,” I grimaced.

  Sophie traced her fingertips along my jaw. The sadness in her eyes was gutting me. The thought of her leaving me, now… I loved her.

  “You could stay here,” I offered, trying to sound casual, all the while, feeling anything but. I suddenly felt like I’d swallowed a grapefruit. Like I couldn’t breathe and the blood pounded in my veins.

  “If I did,” she whispered, “it would be way too easy to let you take care of me.”

  I shook my head and replied emphatically. “So don’t make it difficult.”

  “I need to try and make it on my own, Bran, just for a little while. If I didn’t, I'd feel like a burden to you.”

  “You’re not a burden,” I argued. “God, Sophie, I sure as fuck don’t deserve you, but I don’t want you to go.”

  “You’re so much better than you know, Brannon. So much more than you give yourself credit for.” She trailed her fingertips along my cheek.

  For a while, we just lay there, studying each other closely as though the memory of this moment could carry us through the next few weeks or months. However long she needed to be gone.

  “Maybe I just won’t let you leave,” I whispered after a while, leaning forward to kiss her gently on the lips. My sad and gentle jest, a melancholy attempt to make this easier for both of us. “I’m just going to chain you up naked in my bed.”

  “I can think of worse things,” she murmured softly into my kiss. “I don’t think there could be anything better.”

  “So stay,” I breathed. “Stay here with me.”

  “Brannon, I just need a little time… to figure out who I am.”

  I closed my eyes tight, clenched my jaw, and nodded. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Sophie,” I promised quietly. Everything she was saying made sense. She needed to understand independence to truly feel free with me.

  It sucked.

  But she was right.

  “I’ll do anything for you, Soph… even this. I hate it, but I’ll do it.”

  Sophie smiled with a hint of sadness still in her eyes. She tipped her head forward, pressing her forehead against my chest as she inhaled deeply.

  “One condition, though,” I whispered into her hair.

  “What’s that?”

  “I get you today. Tomorrow, I’ll let you go. I’ll take you to the bank. To the bus station. I’ll let you do what you need to do.” She pulled back and looked up at me, and my voice grew thick with emotion. “But I get you today. All day. All night.”

  She stroked her fingertip down my cheek, watching it rasp against my unshaven jaw. “Don’t you have to work?”

  “There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

  Her fingertips trailed from my jaw to trace the tat on my chest, following the lines of the wings that spread from one shoulder to the other. Then she leaned forward and softly pressed her lips to the ink. She molded her body close to mine and spoke so quietly that I could barely hear her.

  “I’m all yours, Bran.”

  “Seal it with a kiss, Sophie,” I demanded hoarsely.

  She leaned back a little, a somber tilt to her lips as she studied me. Her expression imparted a bittersweet depth of emotion that thrilled and pained me. A beginning and an end, all in one, right there in her tearful blue-green eyes. Her palms cradled the angle of my jaw as she brought her lips to lightly touch mine. A tender kiss that took my breath away.

  I rolled to my back, pulling her up over me, and her hair fell in a soft curtain that shielded us from the world outside. Her unhurried movements both calmed and excited me. The gentle sweep of her fingertips lightly danced over my skin, her lips trailing along behind. And in the faint, early morning light, Sophie made sweet, slow love to me.

  With peaceful, deliberate rapture, she brought my body to life, and I ached for the exquisite feel of her, the soft, silky wetness that drew me in. My hands moved to the round curve of her bottom, nudging her up, a silent plea for some relief from her blissful torment. But she grabbed my hands and pushed them down on the bed, flat by my shoulders.

  “Not yet,” she whispered against my ear. “We have all day. All night. Remember?” She swirled her tongue lightly around my earring as her fingers laced together with mine. “Just let me love you.”

  So I did.

  I lay still, allowing her reverence to wash over me, feeling the devotion of her heart and soul seep through the whole of my body. Pushing back the almost painful longing to take control. Fighting the desire to roll over on top of her, enfolding her in my arms and loving her until she couldn’t leave me.

  But I resisted.

  I let Sophie love me.

  At long last, after exploring every curve of muscle and sinew, she slid back over my body and took me inside. Her fair, ivory skin glowed in the morning sun, ethereal and radiant as she sank down on my aching flesh. Her movements beguiled me, deliberate and relaxed. I felt every quiver of her depths, the clasp of her surrounding me. When she had taken me fully, she arched her back and rocked delicately, teasing me and pleasing me in the quiet of the morning.

  I’d never known such beauty
. I’d never felt such wonder and connection. Sophie’s gentle motion drew us closer to an ethereal cusp, tipping us over the edge into a shaking, breathless tangle of listlessness.

  For that brief snapshot in time, all was right with the world. Because Sophie loved me.

  Over the next few hours, I barely let her out of my sight. Or my reach.

  We brushed our teeth, and I bent her over the bathroom counter while she watched our carnal reflection in the mirror. We showered, and I ended up fucking her against the tile wall. We cooked dinner, and I spread her out on the counter and indulged in her pussy for an appetizer. We watched a movie, and she zealously savored my dick for dessert… with whipped cream on top.

  By the time it was dark, both of us were exhausted. Limp. Sore. Every muscle in my body ached like I’d been in the gym for hours. So we made our way to my bed to lay bare in the soft light, holding each other with a bittersweet grasp.

  I’d promised that I’d let her go, but I didn’t want to. I knew she had to figure out shit. She needed to get stuff straight in her head. I got it. I understood.

  But it didn’t make it easier.

  And, even though our bodies were battered and abused from the intensity of our carnality, neither of us wanted to sleep. Long into the night, we quietly shared stories. Funny bits of our youth. Crazy anecdotes about the people we knew. I told her about my grampa and about my mom, how much it had shattered me to lose them. She tearfully kissed me, and held my head against her soft breasts while I spoke.

  We surpassed all the levels of intimacy we’d come to thus far. We fell deeper in love that night, and, as slivers of morning began to peek through the drawn curtains, I vowed that this would not be the last of us.

  That everything I did for the rest of my life… would be for Sophie.

  All too soon, morning arrived.

  She didn’t have anything to pack. I almost offered her the teal-blue toothbrush, but then selfishly wanted to keep it. Ridiculous, but it was like, as long as I had that fucking toothbrush, she’d come back.

  We stopped by the bank and she withdrew some money, switching her account from savings to checking and getting a debit card. It was a little consolation that she was keeping her account there, even if it was a nationwide chain.

  In spite of her protestations, I stopped and got her a cell phone, adding her to my plan. She fought me, spouting all that same stuff about needing to be independent and doing this on her own, but I wouldn’t budge. I had to keep some connection with her. She finally relented, and I immediately programmed my number in it and put her new number in mine.

  Then we stopped by Target where she bought a new toothbrush and other toiletries. She bought a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, some socks and underwear. Part of me was kind of glad that she didn’t go for sexy little panties, but plain cotton ones instead. In reality, she was being frugal, but I liked to think she chose them because she didn’t plan to let anyone see them.

  I hated shopping. With a passion. I always had. My sister bought most of my clothes, shit for my house, pretty much everything. Sometimes she even bought me groceries.

  But I knew every minute I spent with Sophie would be a snapshot in time, something I could hold onto when she was gone.

  Then we were at the bus station. Waiting. Sitting at a little table over cups of crap coffee. She traced my fingers with her own and sniffed. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears as she looked up at me.

  “I have no right to ask you to wait for me,” she whispered, “but want to.”

  “Don’t go,” I whispered back.

  She dropped her eyes back down to study our hands, and a heavy tear hit the table before her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a raw ache in my voice. “I know you have to do this. Just come back to me.”

  I lifted my hand and tipped her chin up to look at me. When she saw the wetness in my own eyes, she gave me the sweetest sad smile I’ve ever seen. “I will.”

  Then her bus was called. One last tortuous kiss, and she was stepping back away, tears pouring down her cheeks, everything she owned in a backpack slung over her shoulder.

  And then… she was gone.

  It had only been a couple weeks, but I missed her.

  Viciously. It tore at my aching heart and kept me awake at night.

  I didn’t feel like going anywhere or doing anything. I just kinda wanted to lie in my bed and snuggle up with the pillow Sophie had slept on that last night she was here. To mope around my apartment reliving the moments we’d shared. To call her and text her.

  To see her and hold her.

  For the first couple days, I just mechanically went about my life. I went to work and didn’t really say much to Cody. We were dudes, so we didn’t get all in each other’s business about feelings and shit anyway.

  I had become even less conversational since Sophie and I’d had the big blow-up a while back. I hadn’t threatened to fire him in weeks. So when I didn’t talk much after Sophie left town, I hoped that it just went unnoticed, and it seemed to. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go into detail about the most recent high and low because he didn’t ask. He just sorta worked alongside me and eyed me cautiously from time to time.

  Denny didn’t let me off so easily, though. He stopped by the shop on the Friday after Sophie left to see if I was coming to the Copperline. At the first sign of my despondent moping, he started to pry, finally just calling me out.

  “So, who shite in your corn flakes?” he grumbled.

  I glared at him a minute, then flatly replied, “Sophie left.”

  He and Cody gave each other perplexed looks. Cody shrugged and turned back to the old pickup he was working on.

  “I thought you guys split a while ago, Brannon,” Denny said as he studied me, obviously confused. “You said she was tying the knot with that rich dickbrain.”

  “Nah,” I shook my head, “I fucked up. Big time.”

  “Did you know about any of this?” Denny asked Cody.

  Cody just shook his head, looking rather uncomfortable and kept working.

  I kept working, too. I sort of hoped that maybe, if I just ignored Denny, he’d drop it and go away. It didn’t work, though.

  “So what happened?” he finally asked.

  With a heavy sigh, I set down my tools and told him about her showing up at my place. I told him her side of all the shit that had gone down, my massive fuck-ups way back to my blow up at the Uptown. Cody stepped into the office for a minute, coming back with a couple cold beers from the Friday fridge. He handed one each to Denny and I, keeping one for himself.

  And I continued to unload. A longer, deeper conversation than I’d probably ever had with dudes before. With anyone, really, except for Sophie. For her sake, I left out the massive amounts of sex all over my apartment, but totally confessed that I loved her. That she loved me.

  But she’d still left.

  “Well,” Denny said finally. “that’ll harden ya.”

  “You know,” I scowled at him for a minute, “sometimes I have no fucking clue what you're saying.”

  “No shit,” Cody said. “Speak English, you fucker.”

  “Fuck off,” Denny laughed back at Cody before turning back to me. “So when is she comin’ back?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Feckin’ hell,” he sighed.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “fuckin’ hell.”

  “Yeah, fuckin’ hell,” Cody echoed. “But she is coming back? You’re sure?”

  “She said she was,” I shrugged. “But she might decide not to after a couple weeks. She might find someone else.”

  “Yeah, she is fucking gorgeous,” Cody nodded. “Definitely one to turn heads.”

  “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph,” Denny scowled at him. “Shut the feck up, you bloody eejit. He doesn’t need to be hearing shite like that.” Then he turned to look back at me. “She does love ya, Brannon,” he said firmly, “that’s right clear. It was obvious a long time ago. And you did w
hat ya had to, letting her go like.”

  “If you love someone, set them free…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to think about the ‘if they don’t come back’ part.

  “Well,” Denny exhaled, “just don’t be a wanker and feck it all up again. And, in the meantime, we could use a hand tonight, if you’re up to it. Otherwise, you’ll just sit around and mope like a wee girlie.”

  “Fuck off,” I laughed dryly.

  “We’ll have you home at a respectable hour. No funny business.”

  Cody laughed. “Yeah, and you can just send all the chicks my way, Brannon.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “You guys are such dicks.”

  “So, ya comin’ then?” Denny asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll be there.”

  Since the night Sophie had shown up at my place, I’d also ignored phone calls from Mira. While Sophie was with me, I didn’t want anything to intrude on that little moment in time where we were together, short as it was. Mira called a couple times in the days following, but I let them go to voicemail. I just kind of dreaded trying to explain all this shit to her.

  But finally, as I drove out to the Copperline that night, I answered. She’d likely come looking for me if I didn’t, and having your big sister show up to drag you out of the bar doesn’t do much for a guy’s manhood.

  “It’s about time,” she immediately grumbled when I answered. “So, you guys back together?”

  “Hey, Mira,” I replied dryly, “how are you?”

  “Dammit, Brannon, are you?”

  “I don’t really know how to answer that.” That wasn’t even a lie. I hadn’t a clue. “Sorta? Maybe?”

  “Sorta? Maybe? What does that mean?”

  “Well, we kind of worked things out—”

  “Oh yay!”

  “—but then she left.”

  “Wait, she left? Like you got back together and broke up again?”

  “We didn’t really break up again,” I sighed. “I’m not sure exactly how to put it. She just… she had to go for a while.”