Page 44 of Stag

I guess that made sense, however…

“This is The Princess Bride. You’ve only seen it twice? Inconceivable!” How the hell was that even possible?

She rolled her eyes at me, actually rolled her fucking eyes. How cute was that?

“Duh, I’ve seen it about fifty times, but I was just explaining why I usually do it. This one’s a classic. Show me a person who hasn’t seen it at least twice as many times as they’ve had birthdays.”

She had me there. It was my favourite, my comfort film that I went back to time and time again. I think there was something about seeing the hero being mistaken for the bad guy, and then proving himself, that spoke to me. I could be that guy. Not hot or sexy in a fucking mask, like most women seemed to like, but someone who could be redeemed, or proven not to be the bad guy he first appeared to be. I had layers, I’m sure I did. I just needed someone to care enough to see that.

We snuggled together to watch the movie, but you know the trouble with that? She was so close, pressed tight against me, her hair tickling my nose as I breathed, and filling my senses with her scent, her warmth, the softness of her breast pressed against me, it was all like a fucking assault on my self control. It was like waving a red flag at a bull. Did I want her? Fucking right, but I didn’t know how to even approach that with her. It wasn’t like hitting on a woman in a club. That rarely worked anyway, but at least we both were on the same page, or opposite pages, more often than not.

This woman was in my arms, actively snuggled with me, staying in the same place as me, spent the night with me, and yet I had no idea how to approach things. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to touch her, to taste her, to do all the things we’d enjoy, but she needed my emotional support, and I couldn’t betray her trust like that. She hadn’t made any advances herself, just seemed to be looking for friendship, so I had to try and maintain my fucking senses around her.

She moved, trying to tuck her legs under her, and nearly elbowed my junk as she moved. I practically jumped out of my skin, a reaction I couldn’t hide as easily as my words.

“Oh shit!” Yeah, oh shit. I was half fucking hard already and she could have discovered that if she’d actually touched him, not to mention the fact that he’d probably go off if she touched him. It was her. She’d been in my mind, my thoughts, my dreams, and hell, I was starting to think she was in my heart now too. If she touched me, I’d lose my fucking mind.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Her eyes were wide and earnest, and I had to bite back every one of those feral fucking urges that wanted me to move closer, to take her lips, to cup the back of her head, and angle her face so I could feel her tongue against mine again. Fuck. It was almost impossible to hold back.

“Kiss me,” she said suddenly, and I froze for a second, because that meant she could see how desperate I was for her, and that was… it was something. Embarrassing? Shocking? Shameful?

“What, now?”

She giggled. “No, later. Yes, now!”

We both moved at the same time, and as our lips came together, I felt like there was finally peace inside my head, like the should I, shouldn’t I shit was suddenly just gone, and all I knew was that she was kissing me back, she was leaning closer, and I fucking needed this. My hand cupped the back of her head like I’d fantasised, and I deepened the kiss, tasting her as she tasted me. It ended as suddenly as it started though, when she lost her balance and did what she almost did moments before. Her hand slipped off my thigh, and practically punched my dick.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” I hissed, cupping it as it throbbed with pain and somehow renewed need. Was I into that stuff? Pain. Fuck no, but it was her, and I knew I’d take anything she did to me. Apparently she took my balls when she kissed me too.

“I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry!” She tried to reach for my junk too, and I shot her a panicked look, because I was barely holding on here, and the idea of her hand on me right now was sending a fucking alarm screaming in my head. Don’t let her touch him, not now!

I darted out of the way, standing up and groaning as I felt another throb and knew I had to get away. I turned and legged it for the stairs, which was simultaneously uncomfortable, and embarrassing, because she watched me run from her like a pussy. I’m a fucking pathetic piece of crap, and she knows it now.

I reached the bathroom and just leaned against the wall. I was fucked, this was how she’d realise I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew I couldn’t hide the perv inside me anymore. She could fucking see it.

Claudia

Imust have really hurt him! I ran after him, because I wanted to help. I didn’t mean to hit him, and now I was worried I’d done real damage. Was he running for the bathroom to check it? To see if I’d done harm to his probably favourite part of his body?

He was leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs, hands still cupped over him as his head rested back against the wall, and I could see his chest heaving with deep breaths. Were they raspy breaths? Were they the sound of intense pain? I’d heard of the kinds of injuries men could get down there, and I was starting to fear that I’d done exactly that to him.

“Do you need a doctor?” I asked, and his eyes flew open, red colouring his cheeks as he realised I was watching him.

“Jesus. Please don’t be here right now. Don’t see me being this fucking joke that I am.”

What? Did he just call himself a joke? I stepped closer, and he lifted a hand, warding me off, like I was a threat to his very safety.

“I won’t hurt it again, I promise. I’m clumsy, but I want to help. Do you need me to look at it?”

His eyes closed again and his head fell back, rocking side to side against the wall.

“I’m such a fucking pussy.”

“It’s okay. Pain is no joke.”

“It’s not pain,” he said in a rush, probably practically growling the words, as his eyes seemed to bore into mine with intensity.

“Then… what’s wrong?”