Gangster Too-Shorts

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“Call me,” he said softly, almost reaching out a calloused hand as he walked out the front door.

“You wish,” I replied as I was closing it in my PJs, cheeks flushed. His foot was the only thing stopping it from shutting.

“Oh, for real?” Surprise that his charms still didn’t work.

“Please get out, I’m going to be late.“ A bored look, which he assessed carefully. “You can bother me at work later.”

With an uncertain look inside his golden brown eyes and slow hands inside sweater pockets, he quietly strolled off. Seeing that particular thoughtful walk made my chest squeeze, but the door closed softly and I rushed to get ready. He’d told me, on his own, not to expect him to stick around, but here he was ten years later still sneaking into my bed almost every weekend. No matter where I hid my spare, he’d find it.

It didn’t matter where I placed my head or my heart, he’d still make me pause and stare, sink into his damnable cuddles and fairy tale whispers before leaving anyway on Monday mornings like he’d never come back.

It was my fault, really, for being such a brat to him in front of everyone at prom and then turning around and trusting my friend to keep a secret. I mean I loved her to pieces, but she was not any kind of discreet when she thought she saw a good match brewing.

I made my bed quickly, feeling deliciously sore and pleasantly, warmly energized despite the ache in my chest, admitting that she may have been right if it weren’t for the fact that he was only here two days out of the week. At first it was only once a month, then every two or three weeks, for the past few years it had been every weekend he could spare.

Washing myself in the shower had me jerking from how sensitive he left me this morning. He was getting to the point where I wasn’t sure I could even attempt to have a steady boyfriend. We had never officially said anything, but as far as I knew we weren’t seeing anyone else. Even if we were, it was none of our business because we only saw each other a couple days.

Putting on a favorite mascara, the thought dawned on me that maybe I wanted something more than just weekends of the best hours of my life. That maybe I had paid enough for the mistake of the past and maybe it was time to either stay or really leave.

Masking my thoughts at work, the feeling that I was too much of a brat kept creeping up, but he’d never tried being any more than a lover. I didn’t see him today, but I did see a lot of strange looks thrown my way. Maybe I wasn’t as poker-faced as I thought.

Later that day, hanging my suit for the night, the familiar sensation of his hands wrapping me into his hug made me gasp and almost elbow him in the face. He avoided it with that gentle caress which instantly told me who it was.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, nestling into the warmth despite myself. “It’s Monday.”

“I’m done,” came the equally soft reply, but his arms let me turn around before they tightened.

I pushed at his chest, but he kissed my forehead. For some reason, it made me unbearably angry, and I glared at him.

“Let me go, then.”

I pushed again, harder, but his smile was different this time, like he had a secret.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit!”

“No, I mean I’m done,” and the rare sight of glistening in those gold-tinted eyes made me reach around to clutch at his back, my anger replaced by shock. His weapon was missing, but his words fit perfectly into my heart, “I never wanted that life as much as I wanted one with you.”

The emotional buildup kicked me around, and years of half-serious jokes and playful promises unraveled down my cheeks, making us hide my face. But I caught his stupid smile on the sliding mirror door of my closet.

“You really thought I was gonna leave you?”

“Yes, you idiot, I always thought you were going to leave me!”

We were holding onto each other so tightly that it felt like I was holding myself.

“I had to.”

I nodded and he found my lips as I was sniffling.


But he kissed me again and again. “No. You have. NO idea. How hard it was.”

I finally pulled away to wipe at my nose with his shoulder, and he buried his face in my hair. My head tilted to the side and he kissed up and down my neck like he’d done this morning, setting off the ticking bomb of need in my core.

Our words tangled in a chaotic mess of apologies and hopes, that bled over into our bed play with new layers of feelings. We released our anger and frustrations as if the other somehow wouldn’t enjoy the relief we were drowning in, when we could both recognize the love. He’d close his eyes, and lean away -as would I- but our hands never strayed too far from something they could mold around, something to hold.

Breathing hard, finally spent, we watched the sun come up through narrowed eyes. My head lay over the bassline in his chest, the rest of my hot, sweaty body away from the human radiator.

Warm fingers found mine and I watched them tangle and untangle as we got our breathing under control.

“I have to work in a bit... but I’m scared you’ll be gone when I get back.”

The sound of my voice was lazy, sated. I doubted I could keep a straight face today.

He was quiet for so long that I looked up, thinking he fell asleep, but he was observing everything about me with a look in his eyes, a set to his face, something about the touch of his fingers that sent buzzing flutters beneath my skin. Where before I brushed it off, now I sank into it, and he smiled back at me, raking my damp hair away from my face.

“You ever think about leaving?” Into my speculative silence, he added, “I’m not in trouble, just asking if you like it here.”

I nodded. “Of course I’ve thought of leaving, who doesn’t? But now I really have to shower...”

As I moved off, he moved with me, sitting on the edge of the bed with me between his legs. “Save some water, take me with you...”

My chuckle was cut off by the soft touch of his lips. I shook my head, but smiled.

“Come on.”

Our hands pulled him behind me, and the sounds he made under his breath caused heat to stir again.

“You’re just walking,” he groaned. “How can someone look so good just walking?”

“Oh my god, shut up.” How could I feel this insatiable?

The shower took longer than necessary, but we were actually clean and dry by the time the clothes were on. His hand finally reached out this time we said goodbye, and I pressed my face into his palm.

He wouldn’t say it, but it was there on his face... and it was there on mine.

“I’ll be here. Not everybody knows I’m done.”

Of course there’d be a catch.

His eyes crinkled with his smiled, “Don’t gimme that look, you’re gonna be late.”

That night, I came home with the offer of a promotion on my mind. My work had been so efficient, they’d asked if I was taking anything, and the only thing to come to mind as a reply had been that life was being good to me.

Before he had even said anything, my arms snaked around him. He returned the warm embrace and I stood for long minutes in a surreal haze of disbelief.

“Five years,” his shirt muffled my words, and he hummed a question. I pulled my face away. “Gimme five years, I’ll transfer elsewhere.”

He nodded seriously.

“What are you gonna do now?”

“I’ma write.” Again he answered my speculative look, but there was red in his face. “Well, I wanna...” Then he shook his head. “I’ll show you when it’s done, instead.”

“Alright,” I released the subject, and let go of him to shrug off my jacket. He’d never given me reason to doubt his ability to live comfortably.

His hands helped it off, and when I would have held onto it, he pushed it out of my hands and we let it fall to the floor. My attention was all over the loving slide of his chewed lips, the smoky spice of his cool tongue dancing with mine as we blindly unbuttoned my blouse, the way his hands roamed over my skin, my clothes, like I was an illusion, myself, and I’d vanish any second if he didn’t touch me.

We made it to the bathroom without stopping along the way, and for once we only showered. Had he been wearing any clothes when I got here, or had he taken them off? I had no idea and I didn’t think I’d care until we dried off and were laying on the bed.

“Did you bring your clothes?”

“Some.” At my relief, he added humorously, “I mean, I can walk around naked, if you want...”

I bit my lip at him and he rolled over me, slowly pinning my wrists beside me.

His slow grin could only be held back so long, and I answered with one of my own, my blood starting to sizzle with his slow trail of kisses down my neck. It was his favorite spot, his most notable affection, and I loved that line of dewy huffs with blooms of wetness and leaves made from the clinging of his lips, the trail of passion he used to weave a web of lust between peaks of my chest. He pretended to be deaf to my cries, but after a while gazed at me gently and released my arms to instead hold my body for his continued affection.

The trail ended as soon as he got to my soaking slit.

With a stuttered sigh, he rushed up my body and I let out a startled laugh as I moved to meet him. Then there was no more laughing, as he mercilessly ground into my favorite spots with every thrust. My nails dug into his back as my pleasure built, my throat cried out with every creamed shove of hips, and still he ground into me like he would never leave. Fingers finding the hold and eyes closing to say, in that way that he had, that he didn’t want me to see his fears while he whispered the truth of his heart in the shell of my ear.

A crescendo of moans warned of my orgasm, and not five strokes later he had me screaming and bucking beneath him. He forced my hips to continue accepting him, groaning as he played with my tightness and it made me almost cry with the continued shocks of pleasure until I burst like a water balloon. His upper body collapsed as if I’d knocked the wind out of him, and he rode that wave with my arms squeezing around his shoulders and my legs kicking up beneath his every thrust to get him as deep as he would go, until I was a shuddering, panting mess beneath his continued stirring.

“Oh my god, babe, that’s the fastest you ever came on me.”

All I could manage was a whimpering moan which he kissed off my lips, and apparently that did it for him, because with another groan, his hips jerked reflexively and I felt him pulse inside me.

A few seconds of catching his breath, and he rolled sideways, taking me with him. My leg slid over his, and as he slipped out, he considered me seriously.

“Five years?”

I smiled like the cat on a sunny windowsill. “They want me to be supervisor, it would look bad if I left now.”

He whistled a blush out of me.

“Baby, five years from now we’ll be swimming in Bali with a jet waiting for us. But I’ll wait for you right here, like you did for me.”

(Thank you for reading these short stories! While a pack of smokes usually contains only 20 sticks, in ultra-rare instances there can be a “lucky” extra in there. Here’s your lucky, see you again soon.” -SL

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