I think I fucked up.

I’m sorry. I was just trying to be honest. A bit braggadocious maybe, but honest.

I guess I didn’t tell you - wanting from me is a mistake. I should have mentioned. I shouldn’t have started this.

You call me things that nobody else calls me. You fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before. You have me doing and saying things I’d be embarrassed to admit turn me on. I value you so much for that. But I guess I’m living in a fantasy too; you only enjoy taking this role sometimes. Maybe I’ve just been lucky these last few times. Maybe it really is easier with me like you said. Maybe we’re both just enjoying the bliss, indifferent to the bitter end.

I’m sorry though, I really am. I hope you don’t see me too differently. I’m sorry I’m like this. It sounds good, really. What you want. I’d like us to have longevity, I just don’t see how what I do prohibits that. I guess I do come on a bit strong to be saying this now. I’m sorry. It’s the only way I like fucking. I wish I could just detach myself from it like so many people can, or just be okay doing it your way. Please, just let me know, is our date still on? I’d really love to see your place. I’d love to be shown off by you. I’d love to get hot dogs and slushies and mix vodka in them and get drunk by the beach. I’d love to finally sleep through the night holding you. I’ve been really excited.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t play with you the way I do. I shouldn’t trace the shape of your thighs with my teeth. I shouldn’t cover your body with my kisses. I shouldn’t chase the taste of your tongue. I shouldn’t call you gorgeous. I shouldn’t play with your hair while I hold you. I thought you liked sluts - or am I doing it wrong? It’s too much. I know. I’m too much. I just want to love; I don’t understand why that’s such a bad thing. There’s plenty for you. There’s plenty for the others too. Please don’t discard me. I promise things can work out for us both. I know you must be upset, but please don’t let that be the last kiss we ever share.

Please, I need you more than you need me. You have to know that. I scare people. You’ve seen that now. I don’t want you to be afraid; if that means I have to shape myself into something more manageable, more familiar, then I’ll do it. I need this to not be the last time you hold me.

I’m sorry. I feel like I always do this. You don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.

“Do you moan like that for everyone?”

“Yes.”

I figured as much. It only occurred to me later that asking such a question probably gave the impression I was looking for an ego boost. After all, it’s common for a man to say things like that in the heat of the moment; searching for assurances that this time, this moment, this fuck was special, and it was all thanks to the Dionysian power of his dick. In truth I only asked because his moans seemed phony - like they had been rehearsed to worm their way into a lovedrunk’s ears. I asked anyway though, because they were making it hard for me to stay present in the moment.

It was only our second date. We had made plans to get jello shots at Unicorn after work. Neither of us really enjoyed Unicorn so we didn’t spend too much time there. Rain was coming down in an ethereal mist when we stepped outside. It was Thursday and the streets were thoroughly depeopled at this late hour.

Mercutio wanted to stop by Cafe Racer where one of his friends was DJing. We talked about movies as we walked - he enjoyed gorey horror movies which I hadn’t had much interest in for some time. When we got to the cafe I waited outside as he went in to search for his friend. I leaned myself under an awning and waited. Mercutio came out after a few moments and said he couldn’t find his friend. Without delay we were on our way again.

We were at the corner of Pike and Broadway when I asked him if he’d like to come to my apartment. He was coy about his answer, acting indecisive yet following me up Broadway opposite of where he lived.

“What do you wanna do when we get there?”

A bus shrieked by before I could answer him. I looked up into the inky sky, pursing my lips and pretending to be deep in thought.

“Give you some good head,” I finally replied. And it was true exactly as it was uttered. I wasn’t sure if I would have the capacity to do much else. Mercutio smiled and averted his eyes as I moved mine to meet them.

“I haven’t shaved in a few days,” he said in a hushed tone, still keeping his eyes aside from mine.

“I don’t mind.”

Mercutio was beautiful. His skin was like porcelain and his long black hair seemed to fall over his face perfectly no matter where he moved his head. In the center of his torso just below his sternum was a tattoo of a seraph, its wings spread in all directions and its single eye fixed upon the viewer.

I forget most of what led up to him laying naked in my bed, but it didn’t take long for us to get there. It struck me how nervous he was - he had the aura of someone so much more aloof to feelings of insecurity. I began kissing his neck and gradually moving my lips down his body until they found their place puckered around his dick. The moment I began working my tongue into it his whole body tensed up. When I started playing with his labia and fingering him he clamped his thighs around my skull so violently it felt like my skull may crack. And then there were his moans. Mercutio’s moans started loud and only got louder. It was like eating out a pornstar; he seemed to be performing for an unseen audience as much as he was doing it for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how odd it felt. I already felt half outside my body most of the night, and for whatever reason thinking of his moans started sending the other half of me out and I found my body going into autopilot.

“Fuck me,” he panted. “Please - fuck me.”

“Not tonight.” I struggled to get the words out. He was grinding deliriously against my face. I wrapped both of my arms around his legs and held his pelvis in place and sucked his swollen cock until he shook and whined and finally asked me to stop. I did so, but not before running my tongue along his vulva and planting a gentle kiss on his cock. As I lifted myself up and wiped my mouth with my forearm he pulled me in and began kissing me. His hands moved down my body, greedily trying to stuff me inside him. I was mostly flaccid.

“You don’t have to,” I sighed. “I quit taking gabapentin a week ago. My labido’s been weird since.” I chuckled, “along with a lot of other things.”

He relented and we moved to laying in each other’s arms. His head rested on my outstretched right arm and I wrapped my left arm snugly around his waist.

“What made you decide to stop taking it?”

“I didn’t like how it was making me feel. It made me too lethargic, especially when I smoked with it. Plus it didn’t seem to be making much of a difference with my anxiety anymore. I want to try managing things without it for a bit.”

“That makes sense.” Mercutio lowered his eyes to my chest where his fingers had been tracing abstract paths. “Are the withdrawals bad?”

“Not as bad as other drugs, I’m sure. I’ve mostly just been more moody. A little nauseaus” I ran my free hand up his spine and smiled as our eyes met again. “I had a lot of fun regardless.”

“Me too,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “You’re really good at that.”

After Mercutio left I decided I would take a hot bath before bed. As I was waiting for the tub to fill I examined myself in the mirror. Mercutio had left a few small love bites on the right side of my neck, tiny crimson mementos to our indulgence. I was careful not to expose myself to my own visage for too long - prolonged mirror gazing often sent me into a spiral of self-scrutiny and I was still finding my way back into my body. I averted my eyes and, seeing the bath was half full, began lowering myself into the steaming water. The sound of running water calmed my mind and the warmth melted the tension out of my muscles. I laid my head on the rim of the tub and began thinking about the night.

What I told Mercutio had been true, but it hadn’t been the entire truth. I did have fun, and the withdrawals did play a part in my impotence, but there was something else. Never before in my life had I failed so completely in even being aroused for someone. I hoped he didn’t take offense at my behavior, but I felt proud that I was able to leave him wanting more with just my tongue. Still, I felt a sort of emptiness after the whole thing. This emptiness had been creeping to the forefront of my mind most of the night but now, alone with my thoughts, it became my primary fixation.

Thankfully my thoughts were interrupted by my phone buzzing nearby. I had set it down next to some clean boxers and a shirt on the toilet lid. I lurched up from my bath and dried my hands on a nearby towel before picking it up. It was a message from Mercutio telling me he got home safely. I smiled, double tapped the message, and wished him a good night.