Forbidden

by Skyler Snow

  My hands wrapped around him instinctively as my brain raced, feeling his body pressed against mine. His slim frame, his soft skin, his tender touch.

  I hesitantly let go when he did, even though what I really wanted to do was squeeze tighter… or maybe even lift him up and have him wrap his legs around me. Even after letting go, my hands still hovered until I slipped them into my pockets and reared back on my feet.

  “It was really good, Scott. Really good.”

  I could tell he was tired by the way he yawned, but his voice was filled with satisfaction, and he had this dreamy look on his face. I couldn’t help smiling at his tone, knowing the feeling of a good hard day's work, especially when you truly enjoyed what you did.

  “Well, sit down and tell me all about it.” I gestured for us to move further into the apartment and was surprised to see Elliot go to the fridge, pulling out a six pack of beers, before taking a seat at the couch. Something had to be up, if he was the one going for a beer instead of me. I sat down next to him, feeling a tingle of awkwardness, before Elliot handed me a beer and opened one up for himself.

  “It was really fun. More fun than I thought it would be,” he said with a sigh, chugging the can. His face twisted up in a grimace, and he placed the empty can on the table, grabbing another one.

  “Christ, Elliot. What happened to you out there?” I asked, only half joking. He seemed tired and happy, but I’d noticed that he usually nursed one beer and sometimes didn’t even finish it. The kid didn’t seem like much of a drinker. Besides, our first night showed me a few beers could easily knock him out, and he seemed intent on blacking out tonight. I took a drink from mine as I watched him open another can from the corner of my eye.

  “Nothing, really. It was just a… a lot? It was a little draining to be around people all day. I guess I’m just not used to it.” Still, his lips turned up into a smile. “I think I’m really gonna like it there, but I was nothing but nerves all day!” He wrung his hands and went back to drinking. “It’s a great startup, and I think we’re going to go far. I just need to relax.”

  His voice was laced with sincerity, and I felt a burst of warmth in my chest. I wanted him to like it here in California—with me. I was also proud Elliot had worked so hard to get this job, and although I didn’t understand it completely, he had overcome his anxiety about making friends… or rather, working with them in real life, since it seemed he kept up a long friendship online.

  Already, I saw how much good it was doing him, to be busy and meeting his friends every day. It always seemed like he was telling me stories about them or talking to them on the phone. It was everything he deserved.

  “So, this is your celebration? Drinking yourself silly?” I asked. He laughed, holding his can up for me to toast to. Already, there was a pink flush rising up on his face, the combination of the alcohol and his excitement. And he looked beautiful.

  “Cheers.” His voice was already beginning to slur as we clicked our beers together. When he saw me put down my empty can after drinking it, he gave me a sharp look, before finishing his own can off with a hiss.

  “Elliot, you drink like a teenager.” I watched him fight to keep the beer down as he reached for another drink. I almost wanted to stop him if it wasn’t for… what? The fact that he was celebrating? That I was there with him, making sure he was safe? I wanted him to be happy.

  “And you drink like an old man,” Elliot teased with a drunken smile on his face. It was becoming more and more obvious that he hadn’t eaten much that day, and the alcohol was having a harder effect on him than usual. I stayed sitting on the couch as he gently rocked side to side.

  “So, what did you do today exactly?” I asked, wanting to make sure that Elliot wasn’t drinking himself over a bad day of work. It didn’t seem likely, but getting him to talk would help me judge when I should stop him. Talking would keep him from drinking, if only for a few moments.

  “So, Connie gave me some stuff to do. Mostly just background characters, since the main characters have already been fleshed out, but we’ll get a new list of people to make soon. She worked on, um…” Elliot trailed off, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Backgrounds. And we kinda... well, we did a lot of work, but Isaac made sure that we were all… like, okay? We had an hour break where we kinda just talked and sometimes played games for a little while.”

  “I will forever be confused about a job like this.” I laughed. “You just get to hang out and have fun?”

  Elliot shrugged. “Well, yes, but we also work hard. It’s all of our money going into this venture, along with some backers who are keeping us afloat, so we have to work hard to keep getting funded.” He smiled. “It’s difficult, but I love it!” he declared to the room.

  “Elliot, how are you drunk on three beers?” I asked, amused at his ramblings. Elliot was struggling to collect his thoughts and he looked overwhelmingly hurt by my teasing comment.

  “I’m not! It’s just… I’m not!” His lips were stuck out in a pout and he slumped back onto the couch. Looking as if he was ready to stomp his foot in frustration before he started to doze off. I tried to hold in my laughter as his head slowly lowered, and then jerked up as he fought to stay awake.

  Then, he placed his head on my shoulder. I froze, unsure about what he was doing, but Elliot didn’t seem to notice my reaction at all. His arms were still crossed over his chest, like he was trying to hold on to his anger, but the beers seemed to have knocked him out. His eyes were closed, but he hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet. Sitting next to me, his head pressed against my skin and his body tucked against mine, he was warm and inviting.

  Christ, I really do have a crush on him. The word crush was childish, but so was this. Falling for this pretty young boy with his unearthly beauty. This fluttering in my stomach, the burning in my cheeks, the shake in my hands. It was like I was back in high school trying not to look at my crush in the locker room.

  “Your arm is hard,” Elliot muttered, his eyes still closed. “It’s not a good pillow.” His head shifted a little to try to find a more comfortable position. I tried to relax, knowing that my nervousness was probably making me tense up. It didn’t seem to help much since Elliot pushed himself up into a sitting position and his eyes squinted at me. “You were doing that on purpose.”

  “I wasn’t, Elliot.” But the look of annoyance on his face had me trying to bite back my laughter. Elliot, for the brilliant young man that he had grown up to be, was still young and pretty inexperienced. It was kind of cute to see him vulnerable like that.

  “You were! You were doin’ that so I wouldn’t take a big ol’ nap on you.” Elliot’s voice had picked up a strange accent, and his face froze when he heard me laugh, a smile creeping onto his face. “And you were being a big old… a big meanie!”

  “And what if I was?” I challenged, wanting to see how far Elliot might take this. His teasing was always verbal and almost always sticking to the same insults. But in this incoherent state, I might get him to say something perhaps a bit more colorful. It wasn’t like Elliot was a swearing sailor, either.

  “Then!” He pointed a finger at me and his victorious smile dropped for a moment, as he tried to think of something he could do. “I’ll pap you!”

  “What does pap even mean?” I asked before Elliot’s hand darted forward, gently patting me on the arm. He thought for a moment, before seeming to decide that, yes, this was a good thing to do.

  “Pap! Pap pap pap!” He was surprisingly fast, his hands softly poking my arms and chest, never doing any damage. He crawled forward, his hands quickly patting the top of my head, my face, my chest. In the moment it didn’t seem very intimate at all, with Elliot shouting and my laughter, until I felt his body brush against mine. I had tucked myself into a ball and his legs were pressed up against mine as he tried to crawl over me.

  “Wait, Elliot!” A jolt of fear shot through my stomach as he crawled onto my lap, still patting away. He barely seemed to hear though, but he did pause
for a moment. His head tilted to the side, like he was reconsidering his position sitting on my lap. I stayed still in case he freaked out. He was drunk after all.

  All the while, I was still trying to process the situation, terrified that he would feel what he did to me. There was still a small voice that told me to enjoy it. What if he liked it? Still white-hot fear burned under my skin as I waited. I should have pushed him off and laughed the whole situation away. But I couldn’t seem to move. My weak self was hoping that Elliot might realize himself that this wasn’t what he wanted or maybe just decide to go to bed now.

  Instead, his hand reached out to touch my face. It wasn’t quick and teasing like it had been for the last few moments. Instead, his fingertips just barely brushed across my stubbled cheek, leaving a tingling sensation on my skin. It was shooting that tingling feeling straight into my stomach… and much lower. His eyes were wide open now, more aware and curious than he had been just a few minutes ago trying to fall asleep on my arm. His face was already pink with the alcohol, but the flush also seemed to have deepened…

  He leaned forward, and I felt his lips brush against mine. His hands, small and soft with small calluses from working his art, pressed up against my chest. His curly hair brushed against my forehead as he tilted his head, letting his mouth fall open a little. He tasted like beer and poorly made decisions. Or maybe I was the one that tasted of poorly made decisions.

  He’s drunk; push him off, the rational part of my brain screamed at me, knowing that this was wrong. Elliot had made the first move, but it still felt like I should be the responsible one and tell him to stop. My hands went to his shoulders to push him away but instead, I found myself lingering, letting my hands roam up and down. Feeling the tension he held as his hands cupped my face, pulling me deeper and deeper in.

  My hands slid over the fabric of his shirt, desperately wanting to tear it off him and relive that memory of seeing him almost nude in his bedroom. I wanted to examine his skin, soft and pale.

  Instead, I settled on moving my hands down and grabbing at his ass, making him finally break the kiss in a strangled moan. His head was tossed back as I dug my fingers in, indulging myself in feeling the curve of his ass in my hand.

  And then, it seemed that both of us sobered up instantly. Whatever spell had weaved itself around us dissipated. I thanked God I’d come to my senses. I couldn’t do anything with Elliot when he was in this state.

  You mean you shouldn’t do anything with Elliot ever.

  11

  Elliot

  “God.” I ran a hand over my head and tried to collect myself. “Fuck,” I whispered to myself, feeling like the entire sky had fallen on top of my sleeping body and crushed me all night. There was a tightness in my chest that made me feel like I might be dying and a ringing headache right in between my ears that seemed to take pleasure in getting louder and louder the more I tried to ignore it.

  It was an old but familiar feeling. I tried to avoid drinking the best I could, since I was the definition of a lightweight. I’d found it made me more prone to doing stupid things for my friends to film and embarrass me with later. I groaned, fighting back waves of nausea and misery.

  Why the fuck was I even drinking? I pressed my lips together to swallow the nausea that was doing its best to get out. I knew the answer, and it was Tom, and I was going to kill him, or better yet, hide his art supplies.

  Yeah, because I had been working yesterday. The memories of that came easily enough, of the quiet moments and the laughter that broke it up occasionally. After spending so much of my life alone, either in my own dorm studying in college, or working freelance in my room, this was a welcome change of pace. To look over and see my friends working and laughing beside me, or to see one of them smiling at me, waving me over to look at a piece of art they were working on.

  I never thought I would like having someone look over my shoulder, but I actually did.

  Maybe I wasn’t as much of a weirdo as I thought I was… then again, maybe I’d just found my people. The thought made me smile and made my heart do this fluttery thing. I managed a smile even with the hangover. I finally found a place to fit. Having a job where I could just hang out with my friends? That’s why I’d wanted a drink to celebrate the start of something new, exciting, and fulfilling. Celebrating the job, and this place in my life I never thought I would have.

  And Scott is a part of that.

  I kind of remembered sitting on the couch with Scott. We’d laughed and talked. And at some point, I remembered warmth. There was the memory of me chugging beers down without any food in my stomach and the edges of my senses going foggy, but then it was just kind of... blank.

  I’d had way too much. The burning feeling at my temples was proof enough of that, but there was a tightness around my chest that seemed to be screaming at me to remember more. There was something important I was missing in my foggy brain.

  I tested my body. With every movement, I had a dull ache that radiated to every inch of my body, but at least I was in one piece. Which was surprising, considering the fact that I felt like I was warmed-over death.

  I needed to force myself up to shower, but I kept thinking about the night before. I remembered slipping away slowly, my constant need to be polite and orderly falling away as I drank more and more. There was laughter, but I wasn’t sure why we were laughing. Probably Scott laughing at me, after I made a fool of myself.

  But what am I missing? It almost felt like it was on the tip of my tongue as I searched my brain for that missing piece to the story.

  I remembered hands, strangely enough. My own hands. There was a game that I had made up about hands. That’s why we had been laughing, and then… There was touching, poking mostly, and then… Scott’s hands on me, his beard scratching at my face, feeling his lips pressed against mine.

  “Oh, fuck,” I hissed and sat up with a groan as I held my temple. Shit, okay, maybe that was too fast. My brain felt like it was rattling around in my head.

  My bedroom door was still closed, and I couldn’t hear anything coming from outside. Then, it occurred to me I wasn’t even sure how I got to my own bed, but I was still fully dressed, and I sniffed. Yeah, I definitely needed a shower.

  You’re procrastinating, Elliot.

  Well, of course I was avoiding. I had kissed him. I kissed Scott. I fucking kissed Scott.

  The feeling of it came rushing back to me. The burning curiosity as I found myself sitting in his lap, my face just inches from his. My hands went to his face, needing to know how his skin felt against mine, and that first touch had sent me spiraling down. The tugging in my chest became an impossible to ignore scream to touch him. I pressed myself against him, my chest against his, my hands feeling the texture of his trimmed beard, my hips grinding down onto his lap.

  It was amazing. I could hardly remember anything of the experience, just shreds of some feelings. The way that I could hear Scott’s breath catch in his throat, the growing hardness under my ass, the way that he had finally given in and grabbed at me, making me moan. I’d never had an experience like that in my life.

  Fuck!

  I was embarrassed to see that I was getting hard, just by thinking about it. I gave in and stroked myself until I couldn’t take it anymore. The whole time imagining it was Scott getting me off.

  It was like my drunk self had torn down some wall of self-restraint, denial, and let lose my urges. As I peeked my head out of my bedroom door, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to dig up more memories from last night. His large frame blanketing my body, me completely at his mercy.

  That thought made my body shiver. Every little nerve felt like it was on fire, just thinking about that.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the way that Scott kissed, different from a girl’s lips, and nowhere near gentle or submissive. Scott had been hesitant at first, but the moment he let go, the tables had turned. The way that he had taken control of me, his hips rolling up, and pressing his erection against my ass as he
pulled me down with his iron grip left me shaking even now.

  I scurried into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I certainly looked hungover, with my curly hair in a frizzy nest on my head and my skin an odd sort of sickly color. I stripped, letting my outfit fall to the ground; it stank of alcohol anyway. I turned on the shower and ran it cold. I had to brace myself against the freezing water, but at least it helped clear the fog in my brain.

  I couldn’t piece together what happened after that kiss. It was likely that nothing happened after our first kiss, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him again. To feel so vulnerable and fragile under his grasp as I rode out the experience with him. Tugging off his clothes and letting myself crumble into a mess under his touch.

  I wanted Scott to take over and tell me what to do, use me how he wanted.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I scrambled to wash the shampoo out of my hair, leaving the shower with a few bubbles still clinging to my shoulders. I had work today and I still had no clue what time it was. I must have fallen asleep early, since I only got home around six or so and immediately started drinking. Work would give me some time away from the house and away from the chance of having to confront Scott about my actions last night.

  I opened the bathroom door with my bundle of clothes in my arms. I was naked, my hair still damp, and I was relieved to see that there was still no trace of Scott. I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to face him.

  I scurried into my bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me, before throwing on clothes at random. I checked my phone and saw that Tom had already sent a text message to me, saying that he had arrived at my apartment.

  “Fucking… Fuck. Fuck,” I muttered to myself, grabbing my backpack, which I hadn’t bothered unpacking last night before rushing out of the apartment. Scott didn’t seem to be home at all, and I ran down the stairs to Tom’s car, my chest burning with my sudden burst of exercise.